#arthur flicks back and forth

[justaz]

au where merlin doesn’t know balinor is his father and he and arthur are chilling in his cave and balinor mentions hunith and merlin Locks In as he subtly questions the random man and boom arthur and merlin are aware that the last dragonlord is his father.

[dandelionprints]

Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

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"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping  Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him  that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him. 

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt. 

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N  was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision. 

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected. 

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers. 

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning. 

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day. 

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm. 

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself. 

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim. 

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her. 

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck. 

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion. 

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling. 

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men. 

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral. 

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest. 

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him. 

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came. 

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time. 

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room. 

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife. 

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out. 

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered. 

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening. 

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold. 

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows. 

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual. 

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed. 

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain. 

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers. 

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly. 

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital. 

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks. 

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

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Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik @helen06dreamer @cyphah (unable to tag) @boobooquicksilver

[gldnstrngs]

a preview of my fic that i desperately need to finish:

“You see, I am betrothed,” Arthur said, making everyone look at him with wide eyes.

Lord Alaric blinked once. And then twice. He didn’t stop blinking after a few seconds. “My lord?” he questioned politely, glancing at the others.

There was a part of Arthur that wanted to laugh at their gobsmacked faces, but that wouldn’t be very kingly of him, so he cleared his throat with an assertive nod. He grabbed Merlin’s hand from his lap, feeling him stiffen slightly. Arthur squeezed it gently, stroking with his thumb. He then placed their interlocked hands on the table, so everyone could see. “I am to marry Lord Merlin.”

It was safe to say that there was a… range of reactions, if you will.

Morgana ended up staring at him and Merlin quietly, her eyes flicking back and forth between them to the point that it was even making Arthur’s eyes hurt. Gwen had let out a high-pitched sound through tight lips, doe eyes wide. Lancelot had promptly spat out his wine. Leon had done the opposite, chugging his wine from his goblet. Elyan solemnly slid over some gold coins to Gwaine, who had been smirking—and, okay, Arthur going to have to have a word with them about betting on their king—and pocketing his earnings. Percival had been teary-eyed, using a handkerchief to dab at his tears. Gaius stared at the couple with an intensely raised eyebrow, while Geoffrey had a hand to his heart in a way that Arthur couldn’t tell was heartfelt or scandalized. And Merlin was gripping onto Arthur’s hand, gaze boring onto the table and ears turning bright red.

update:

so i finally published it heheheh

[shanastoryteller]

Love your fics!

Charmed please? Or pjo? ❤️❤️

Part 1 2 3 4

Paige watches Chris flick through the their book of shadows - literally flick, going through pages with mere twitches of his fingers without touching the pages, the action speaking of years of practice. He must have gone though his own book of shadows like this. She wonders if he's done the same to theirs whenever they weren't looking.

He's pissed at them - her - for figuring him out, that they know he's a whitelighter by blood rather than death. That they they know he's half witch, just like her.

Despite that, there's an ease to him now, some of the tension that constantly hung in the air around him now gone and something settled taking its place. She'd like to say it's because the truth is out, even if he's mad about it, but she thinks it has more to do with the sword that refuses to leave his hip.

Chris is a king. Their king, even. Everyone's king, once and future, prophesized to unite the world in peace and harmony.

Born to the world when he's needed most, which is a thought just as uncomfortable as the idea that the neurotic twenty three year old constantly harassing them over consequences is a monarch. What could go so wrong that the world would bring forth King Arthur to save it?

"It's not like I'm going to steal it," Chris says, irritated. "You don't have to watch me."

A king, Paige repeats to herself incredulously. "You can't steal something that belongs to you."

His head snaps up, eyes wide. "What?"

She gestures to Excalibur. "It's clearly yours. I don't know why you're so determined to get rid of it."

He ducks his head down, focusing once more on the book of shadows. "I haven't been born yet. It doesn't belong to me."

"Well, why don't you just put it where you got it from the last time?" she asks, then tilts her head from the side. "Was it from Wyatt? Since he's your Merlin, or whatever."

Chris's lips pull back, maybe into the start of a smile but she'd put money on it being a sneer before his lips flatten out into a tight line. "It's not getting it where it's supposed to be. It's getting it to stay there. Putting the stone somewhere else doesn't do any good until I can get it to stay in the stone."

Pagie rests her chin on her arms. Piper and Phoebe are all bent out of shape about the lying and the secrets and whatnot, but Paige is more interested in what else they've been missing if they didn't notice that their whitelighter was a witch and a king. "Do you get a crown?"

He pauses, looking up to blink at her. "What?"

"Since you're king," she says, then adds, "I've always thought I'd look good in a crown."

This time she does a get smile. "If anyone ever gives me one, you can have it."

"Score," she says and feels a little thrill of accomplishment that Chris's smile lingers even as he returns his attention to the book.

[sixgunluvr]

Claimed By An Outlaw

Mature Age 18+ Readers ONLY

Pairing Arthur with a female reader.

His gaze spoke in volumes of the desire burning within him.

It was a familiar hunger in his eyes - one that promised nothing but all-consuming passion.

He wanted to take you right then and there, to bend you over the nearest surface and thrust himself inside you without so much as another second's hesitation.

And God help you, part of you wished he would.

But Arthur had more finesse than that. He wasn't an animal ruled by his primal instincts…well, not all the time anyway.

He sauntered over to you, those gorgeous green eyes burning with the heat of a thousand suns. You felt your heart rate pick up as he approached, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Well now, don't you look absolutely beautiful," he drawled, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You blushed under his praise, biting down on your lower lip as you tried to stifle the moan threatening to escape.

Arthur reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before tangling in your long hair. He tugged gently, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath away from his.

You could feel his hot breath against your skin, making you shiver with anticipation.

"I need you. Meet me at our spot in 10 minutes," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper, and quickly sauntered off.

Your heart pounded so loud you thought the others could hear it. The wetness between your legs grew by the second, your arousal sparking at the mere thought of Arthur and what awaited you in your secret spot.

You quickly made your way to the spot you two had claimed as yours. The anticipation was nearly killing you.

There he was, smoking a cigarette.

The moment you saw Arthur, your breath hitched and your knees went weak. He was stunning. Rugged. Dangerous. He oozed of a masculinity that immediately turned you on, making your mouth salivate and pussy drip with hunger for him.

Arthur grinned when he saw you, his eyes darkening with desire.

He looked like a predator sizing up his prey, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of being his for the taking.

"You came, good girl," he growled, his voice low and sultry, flicking his cigarette to the side and smashing it under his boot. 

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter by the second. Arthur closed the distance between you in one long stride, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into a fierce kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, tasting and teasing you until you were breathless with need.

You could taste the cigarette he just put out, which just intensified your arousal.

"I need you now," he groaned into your mouth.

His was grinding his cock into your thigh and he was rock hard.

You could feel every inch of him, and it was making you soaking wet.

"Bend over," he commanded.

You quickly did as you were told, bending over the rock that served as a makeshift table. You felt his fingers tracing a path down your spine, causing you to shiver in anticipation.

He groaned when he found you naked under your skirt, that he now had pulled above your waist, leaving you bare from the waist down.

You heard him spit, then felt his fingers tracing through your wetness. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he groaned.

You looked back at him over your shoulder to see him working his cock in long strokes and your mouth watered at the sight.

He positioned himself behind you, his fingers still working their magic on your clit. You could feel him rubbing his cock along your wet folds, teasing you relentlessly.

You whimpered, rocking your hips back and forth attempting to get him inside of you. Arthur chuckled darkly before slamming into you without warning.

You cried out in pleasure as he filled you completely. His thrusts were hard and fast, with a primal intensity that stole your breath away. Each one sent a shockwave of pleasure through your already trembling body. You clawed at the rock beneath you, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught.

Arthur's grip on your hips was tight as he relentlessly drove into you.

His thrusts were savage, and you could feel his roughness as if it was tattooed onto your skin. His hips slapped against your ass as he pistoned in and out of you, the sound echoing through the quiet night. You gasped for breath as he filled you up to the brim, only to withdraw and plunge into you again. The sensation was intense, and the fear of being caught in the act only heightened your pleasure.

You couldn't help but cry out each time he bottomed out inside you, your slick channel quivering around him with every stroke.

You had your knees locked otherwise there was no way you'd still be standing.

The sound of your wetness was like a symphony to his ears, and it only spurred him on. he growled, his voice raw with lust. "You like feeling me fuck you deep and hard."

You could only whimper in response, your body shuddering with every thrust. You were already close to the edge, your pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside of you with each passing second.

"Such a good girl for me," he growled, smacking your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint on your pale skin. You whimpered at the pain-pleasure sensation, your pussy clenching around his cock in response.

"You like it when I take you like this," he asked, his voice low and harsh as he continued to thrust into you with wild abandon.

You could only nod, unable to form coherent words through the haze of pleasure that was currently clouding your mind.

He spanked you again, harder this time, causing you to cry out.

"You like when I spank you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

You nodded again, biting your lip in anticipation.

"I love how your pussy clenches my cock each time I smack your ass."

"Tell me you want me to fuck you harder," he demanded, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to slam into you with reckless abandon.

"Yes, please!" you begged. "Fuck me harder, Arthur!"

He grunted in approval, his thrusts growing more intense with every passing second.

"You're so goddamn tight, baby," he growled, his voice full of raw desire. "I could fuck you all day and night."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling beneath him as you felt yourself hurtling toward a shattering orgasm.

"Please, Arthur don't stop," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Make me come."

He chuckled darkly.  "You won't be able to walk straight after I'm done with you."

With that, he increased his pace, thrusting into you with a primal urgency. You could feel every inch of him, filling you up completely.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips as he pounded into you.

Your breath hitched as he filled you up completely, his cock hitting every nerve ending in your body. Your orgasm was building deep inside of you, the sensation so intense that you could feel it in every muscle. You could hear the sounds of your own pleasure filling the air, mingling with Arthur's groans.

The rock beneath you was rough and unforgiving, digging into your palms as he took you from behind. But you didn't care, not when it felt this good. Not when he was making you feel like the only woman in the world.

And certainly not when you were about to come harder than you ever had before.

"Oh God, yes," you moaned as he slammed into you one last time, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your body trembling with the force of your release. 

"That's it, darlin'. Come all over my cock," he growled.

He kept pounding into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

"On your knees now, baby," he ordered.

You obeyed without hesitation, dropping to your knees in front of him with a whimper. His cock was still glistening with your wetness, and you couldn't resist the temptation to wrap your lips around him.

He let out a low growl as you sucked him deep into your mouth, your tongue tracing the length of his hard shaft. You could feel him trembling with the effort to hold back, his fingers threading through your hair as he guided your movements.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as you took him deeper.

Your mouth was hot and wet, and he could feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Goddamn, you're good at that," he grunted, his fingers tightening in your hair as you sucked him with abandon. You could feel him swelling even more in your mouth, and you knew he was close to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," he growled, his eyes darkening with desire as he pushed your head back and began stroking his cock. 

"Open your mouth," he demanded.

You obeyed and he laid the head of his cock on your tongue.

He wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft and continued stroking himself, using your tongue as a guide.

"That's it, darlin'. Take it all in," he growled, his eyes never leaving yours as he fucked your mouth. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, and you knew he was close to releasing. You braced yourself for it, eager for the taste of him.

With a guttural growl, he came. Hot jets of cum filled your mouth, spilling over the sides and down your chin.

You swallowed eagerly, your throat working convulsively as you tried to take every last drop of him. He tasted so good, salty and musky and uniquely him. You reveled in the sensation of him coming undone in your mouth, his body shaking with pleasure.

"Goddamn, that was good," he groaned, pulling out of your mouth with a soft pop. He reached down to help you to your feet, his hands lingering on your waist as he pulled you close for a deep kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting himself on your lips.

It was a primal, raw sensation, a reminder that he had just owned you in every single way possible. You could feel him smiling against your lips as he deepened the kiss, a small chuckle escaping him.

He broke the kiss and looked deep into your eyes. "You're mine now, darlin'. I'll always come back for you."

You blushed at his words, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. But at the same time, you also felt protected. Cherished. Loved.

Protected. That's what Arthur made you feel each time he touched you. And it wasn't just during your heated encounters, but in every moment you shared. He had this way of looking at you - like you were the only person who mattered in the world. As if he saw something in you that no one else could see.

It was intoxicating, and you found yourself falling for him deeper and deeper with each passing day.

Arthur didn't just fuck you. No, he made love to you in a way that no one else ever had before.

His touches were gentle yet firm, his kisses passionate and all-consuming, his thrusts raw and powerful. He took his time, making sure to explore every inch of your body, committing every curve and hollow to memory.

That evening at Horseshoe Overlook, he showed you just what it meant to be loved by a man like Arthur. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Shades of Grey || CL16 {2}

Summary: You see the lasting effects of your crash on Charles and wish you could ease his suffering. Warnings: 18+ only, reader injuries, angst. Word Count: 2k

F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four ||

Pierre and Arthur caught up to Charles before he could leave without them and Arthur shoved himself between Charles and the driver’s door he was opening, stopping his brother from getting behind the steering wheel. 

“You’re not in the right state to drive,’ Arthur said softly as he held his hand out for the keys. “Let me.”

Charles looked ready to argue but Pierre was quicker and swiped the keys from where they hung limp in Charles’ hand. “Fine, but I can’t go to the hospital. Just take me back to the airport.”

They nodded and Pierre opened the back door where you slipped into the seat and shuffled silently across before Charles followed. Pierre’s fingers ran along the inside of the door before he shut it and you frowned as he whispered to Arthur who nodded in agreement.

The moment the car started it connected to Charles’ phone and started to play one of his many playlists. Pierre’s eyes searched the rearview mirror for his friend as he reached for the stereo to turn off the song but Charles shook his head.

“Leave it,” Charles muttered dejectedly as the words to The Scientist began and Chris Martin’s voice filled the sedan.

Charles stared lifelessly out the window not seeing the changing scenery as Arthur drove to Bologna. He was lost to the recesses of his mind and the words of the song that had taken on a new meaning since your accident. 

“Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be so hard.” His lips silently sung along to the chorus and pressed his forehead to the cool window pane. 

“Oh, take me back to the start,” you finished softly for him when his lip trembled and he pinned them shut with a deep swallow.

Charles startled as his eyes connected with yours in the reflection of the glass and he spun around only to deflate at the sight of an empty seat beside him. 

“Charles?” You waved your hand in front of him, hoping he could see you but he stared right through you. 

“Charles?” Pierre asked, pulling his attention away from you and Charles turned to his worried friend. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “I just thought I saw…nevermind.” The car fell silent and Charles went back to staring out the window. It wasn’t until the car began to slow that he untangled himself from his head and realised it was not the airport parking complex they were pulling into. “No, no, I’m not…I can’t.”

He reached for the door, ready to flee on foot, but it wouldn’t open. He flicked the lock back and forth, ramming his shoulder into the trim, but it would budge. He narrowed his eyes at Pierre who slunk back into his seat as Charles realised who had activated the child lock on his door.

“Let me out of the fucking car.”

“Charles, I know you’re scared but she’s alone in there. She would be by your side if it was the other way around.”

“And you’ve never spent a birthday apart,” Arthur added as he turned in his seat and pinned his brother with a stare. 

“I don’t want to have my last memory of her being laid up in bed hooked up to a bunch of machines. I want to remember her…alive.”

A growl of protest clawed out of Pierre’s throat but he kept his opinion to himself as they sat at a stalemate in the car. No one said a thing as the air grew heavy and a new song came on, one that you couldn’t stand. The moment was tense enough that you didn’t want the song adding to it and you reached over the seat, brushing through both Arthur’s and Pierre’s shoulders before hitting your hand against the stereo.

“What the…?” Arthur recoiled with a shiver and Pierre ran his hand over his arm that had gone through you.

The song skipped like a scratched CD and it changed over Hold My Hand, the Lady Gaga song a favourite of his after watching Maverick with you on one of the many late nights you couldn’t sleep before a race. 

Charles stared at the title moving across the small screen on the stereo and his trembling hand gripped his buckle, his thumb slowly pushing down on the release as the song called to him. 

Hold my hand, everything will be okay I heard from the heavens that clouds have been grey Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms I see that you're hurtin', why'd you take so long

The belt released with a deafening click and Charles swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked at his brother and friend. “Let me out.”

The words were barely above a raspy whisper but Arthur nodded and got out so he could open the back door. Arthur had felt the change in his tone and knew his older brother was done running.

“I need to do this alone,” Charles murmured as he reached your private room in the Intensive Care Unit. 

“Of course,” Pierre said, nodding his head to the waiting room and placing his hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We’ll wait over there. Take as long as you need.”

Charles waited until they were both seated before he worked up the courage to push open the door. He closed his eyes, picturing you as he had last seen you.

You had been standing off to the side of your car, your earplugs blocking out the world around you as you prepared for the race. Your eyes had been closed, your hands moving as you mentally practised the turns of the track, your fingers shifting up and down the imaginary gears. 

He had watched you with fascination when he should have been doing his own last minute prep. By the time you had looked up his team had already called him back to the front of the grid and far away from where you remained.

With a deep breath, he lifted his hand and pressed his palm to the cold metal plate but he didn’t have the strength to push it until you placed your hand over his. The door creaked as it swung open and the sharp scent of disinfectant filled the room that was quiet except for the steady whoosh of the ventilator that was filling your lungs with oxygen.

You froze in the doorway as you saw yourself on the bed and Charles stumbled to a stop too. His hands hung limp at his sides and a sob filled the room as he crumpled forward to grab your hand.

“Charles?” Arthur asked quietly as he followed the sound of his brother’s pained cry.

The ghost of a sensation tickled your face and you watched numbly as Charles stroked your cheek, careful not to touch the tube strapped to your mouth. 

“She looks like she’s sleeping.”

Arthur rubbed his brother’s back. “She is.”

Charles shrugged the touch away, not seeing the hurt in his brother’s eyes. “No, she’s not.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her. While you were off living your dream we were left behind, training together day in and day out,” Arthur snapped as he walked around your bed and sat at the edge of the window ledge. “You’re all she talked about. Even when you raced like shit and lost she would support you. She remained positive. The least you can do is have the same fucking decency.”

Charles tore his eyes away from your face that he still stroked gently. “She talked about me?”

“You’d think the sun shone out of your ass.” Arthur shook his head and dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. “She could be having a terrible session on the sim and be in a real mood but then she’d suddenly be smiling again because you sent some stupid meme to her.”

You hadn’t realised anyone had paid so much attention to you, or that you had been so transparent. Those small messages had meant the world to you because it meant that for that moment in time Charles had been thinking about you and spared a few seconds out of his busy day to make you smile.

Colour spread across Charles’ cheeks and chased away the grey pallor as he blushed shyly and looked nervously away from Arthur. The longer he looked at you, the more colour seeped into the room chasing away the shades of grey that had saturated your world since the crash.

“Oh, I didn’t realise Miss Y/L/N had visitors,” a nurse interrupted as the door swung open.

Charles wiped at the tears that had been silently falling since he walked in and rose from the chair, his hand slipping from yours. The colour drained away and a chill swept over you as he stepped away.

“You don’t have to leave, I’m just checking her charts.” The nurse picked up the clipboard at the foot of the bed but it caught the sheet and lifted it up. Before she could tuck it back in Charles was there, pulling the sheet higher and reaching for your feet.

“She hated sleeping with socks on,” he said with a thickness that choked his voice as he started to pull them off.

The nurse’s lips turned down as she stopped him and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry but these are compression socks to help stop clots from forming. They need to stay on for now. She won’t even notice them.” 

Arthur flinched as he knew how well his brother would take that and he pushed off from his perch on the window ledge to follow Charles as he stormed out.

“She meant, Y/N won’t be uncomfortable. Research proves coma patients can still be aware of their surroundings, Charles, she might still be able to hear you.”

“Please, Arthur, just stop.” Charles’ hands turned to fists at his side as he spun on his little brother. “You’re a fixer, I get it, but you can’t make this better! She’s gone!”

There was nothing you could do to heal his pain as he walked out of the room more broken than when he had entered and when you reached the threshold you slammed into an invisible wall. The heaviness in your feet returned as it had been at the race track and you screamed for Charles as he walked away, and never looked back.

The door swung slowly shut, trapping you within the four walls as you pound your fists uselessly against the small window that showed Charles’ retreating figure. He couldn’t leave, you needed him. More importantly, you needed him to know you were still there. He needed to know you hadn’t left him.

The shadows in the room grew darker with each step he took until nothing remained but a void threatening to swallow you whole and you slipped down the door to a crumpled heap on the cold floor. 

A shout drew you from the darkness and the steady squeak of someone running along the corridor had you pulling yourself back to your feet to peek through the window as the door slammed open. Heat filled you as Charles sprinted back in the room, passing through you as he rushed to your side and skidded to a stop.

The nurse cast her eyes over his dishevelled hair and red rimmed eyes before slipping out of the room quietly, closing the door behind her before Arthur and Pierre could enter. “Give him a moment.”

Click here for part three.

Tagging: @alwaysclassyeagle @abeanontoast @theslytherinwriter  

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(11)

Go to sleep, Miss Y/n

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Robert learns the truth of the plot to infiltrate his dreams...well...Cobb's version of the truth.

word count - 1.6k

warnings - betrayal, shitty fathers

a/n - I've realised the chapters are getting shorter and I think it's because when I'm writing I'm finding natural stopping points and I find I get more productive if I'm writing small chapters frequently than stressing about getting a large chapter finished.

Previous Chapter Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

We arrived on the fifth floor, exiting out of the elevator, Robert first with a gesture from Cobb in faux attentiveness. I lagged behind, the tremendous terror I felt in combination from my last encounter and whatever was about to befall us buzzed within me. Even as the two men entered before me, my stride was shyer than theirs. Every so often Robert would chance a peak behind him at my frame. So I was ready at a moment to right myself once again.

With only his back to look at, I still managed to discern the shudders that racked Robert’s body. As I saw one sliver down his spine, the same feeling was repeated on my own. As if our hearts were actually the same, being passed back and forth between the two.

Silhouettes appeared out from the end of the hallway and Robert stumbled at another presence, the memory of our previous encounter merely one picture away.

“They’re with me.” My dad assured with a hand on Robert’s back. Offering a comfort I had yet to know. “Go on.” With this confirmation Robert’s eyes darted around the room numbers in search of any sense of familiarity. His body moved faster than his mind could comprehend. His eyes ended up bearing the brunt, shooting back and forth to catch what his mind had missed the first time.  

Feeling dismissed in my current position I found my feet shuffling towards Arthur. I clasped his arm in mine, leaning into his body to inhale his scent. The embrace I’d shared with Robert had cured my aching heart but to truly be healed I needed the feel of something I’d known before. In Arthur’s arms I could feel safe, whilst being undoubtedly assured no harm could come. He raised his arms so he could meet my hand with his. He clasped them together and brought them back down, my two fitting in his one. He looked at me, and I willed myself to meet his eyes. I gave a gentle nod. No more words were required before he met my hairline and christened it in his kiss. Unfortunately, I was unable to convey the platonic nature of this interaction before I saw Robert’s head fall low upon witnessing the two of us. I so badly wanted to jump back out into his arms but my sense of duty to the team and to my own promise held me still. Upon pondering this I also failed to catch the steel glare that landed on my father and the fist clenched close to where my own were being comforted.

The door labelled 528 stood before us. Robert’s panic grew as the familiar numbers jumped out to him. His head flicked back and forth from the door to my father in a silent agreement of what they both knew. Cobb gestured for Robert to stand with Ariadne and I as him and Arthur brandished their guns. They kicked the door down in perfect choreography for the scene they were trying to convince. They were led in by their weapons and they scoured the room in search for imagined intruders. Arthur paced towards the bathroom in perfect timing to ‘discover’ the briefcase.

“Mr Charles,” He announced. I did wonder if Arthur was going to do a different voice, remembering fondly when he would try different accents to make the jobs more fun.

“Do you know what that is Mr Fischer?” Dad asked.

“Yeah I—I think so, yeah.” Robert stuttered out and I sensed how close he was as he had gravitated towards my frame. My pinkie extended in search of something to hold. It was rewarded as I felt his own curl around it.

“They were trying to put you under.” Dad hurriedly uttered out.

“But I’m already under.” Roberts confusion spread through his adrenaline, linking the two.

“Under again.”

“What do you mean, a dream within a dream?”

An intruding sound alerted the room and we became aware of the fact we were no longer alone. For Robert he feared the oncoming consequences. The rest prepared for the next arrival.

“Shh.”

Cobb was aimed at the door as Arthur approached from the side. The door was unlocked, and Browning entered with his own key card. Arthur swiftly grabbed his arm in order to subdue him into compliance.

“Uncle Peter?” Robert appeared desperate to go to his godfathers aid, but I held him back with a slight tug on his sleeve. He responded to my action and remained still.

“You said you were kidnapped together?” My father asked.

“Well not – exactly – they –they already had him.” Roberts stutter was starting to become more prominent in the high-pressure environment and I had to wonder whether this was something he had been prone to before. Returning when he is placed in an environment which strains his heart. “They were tor—torturing him.”

“You saw this happen?” He breathed heavily when the question of sincerity was placed on the table. His eyes flitted to his godfather and seemed to truly focus for the first time. His conclusions became fully formed in the slight slouch of his godfather.

“The kidnappers are working for you?” Robert managed to push out in a whisper of disbelief.

“Oh Robert.” Browning sighed out as if in shame of the boy before him. The situation may have been an allusion but in Robert’s fallen expression I sensed that a scene like the one before was not unusual in his memories.

“You’re trying to get the safe open?” Robert’s voice shook. “To get the alternate will?”

“Fischer Morrow has been my whole life.” Browning said. “I can’t let you destroy it.” I had never had more of an urge to punch a projection in my whole life. And Robert knew it through the hand he gently placed over my newly clenched fist.

“I’m not gonna throw away my inheritance!” Robert shouted. “Why would I?”

“I couldn’t let you rise to your father’s last taunt.”

“What taunt?”

“The will Robert. That will? That’s his last insult. A challenge for you to build something for yourself. By telling you you’re not worthy of his accomplishments.” Browning hit the final nail.

Robert faced away and brought his hands up as if he could wipe away all the unpleasant feelings which were being forced upon him. I followed where his body paced, hoping any semblance of my presence would make him hurt a little less. He returned incredulously asking Browning to continue.

“What, but that – that he was, um, disappointed?” His words were intertwined with self-effacing laughs.

“I’m sorry.” Browning had the decency to refuse to meet Robert’s eyes in light of what he was revealing. “But he’s wrong. You can build a better company than he ever did.”

“Mr Fischer? He’s lying.” My dad approached to whisper to Robert.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, it’s what I do, he’s hiding something, and we need to find out what that is.” Eames stalked into the room with Saito tailing behind. His weak frame confirmed my worry that the temporary heal of the deeper dream was starting to peel off to awaken a new countdown to the end. “I need you to do the same thing to him, that he was going to do to you.”

Eames and Arthur both held Browning down to "prepare him" for the next level. Ariadne and I did the same thing but in preparation for the others.

“We’re going to go into his subconscious and find out what he doesn’t want you to know.” My father continued to explain.

“All right.” Robert agreed determinedly. He approached where Arthur had his IV prepared but he faltered and angled himself towards where I stood. I was busy arranging for Ariadne and failed to notice him until he tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and was taken aback at his choice to converse with me. “Will you do it? For me?” He softly spoke and offered me the IV he had taken off Arthur. His eyes pierced down to capture just the two of us and they spoke to me to convey that I was the only one he could trust. I felt the burning glare of my father at the deviation from the scene. It had startled me as well but I was nothing if not an improviser.

“Of course.” I soothed, and gently clasped his bare arm in my hand to lightly insert the needle. I guided him to sit down on the bed. As the sedative seeped through my hand glided towards his neck. His weight fell onto it and I laid him down offering as much care as I could to ease him into this change. Once his head met the soft mattress, my fingers dragged back to the front. They lingered on his soft cheek and danced their way to his full pink lips. I was overcome seeing true peace line his features. But I was shot back to the situation at hand once Eames clapped my back in a warning.

“He’s out.” I announced.

“Wait whose subconscious are we going into exactly?” Ariadne questioned.

“We’re going into Fischer’s.” Cobb answered. “But I told him it was Brownings so he’d come be part of our team.”

“He’s gonna help us break into his own subconscious?” Arthur looked towards my father with doubt in his brow.

“That’s right.”

I laid down on the floor as Arthur kneeled over me, helping to prepare the IV.

“Security’s gonna run you hard.” I warned understanding the danger of leaving the dreamer at the whim of the projections and feeling genuine fear for Arthur up here on his own.

“Then I will lead them on a merry chase.” He teased as he smirked down at me knowing to reassure me in this moment, so my head would be clear of frivolous worries for his safety.

I giggled at his choice of words. “Just be back before the kick.” I relaxed my head back in wait of my slumber.

He lowered his voice to a soothing whisper. “Go to sleep, y/n.” he hushed.

LAYER THREE: THE SNOW

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Because y/n will have experienced stuff like the previous chapter before, it makes sense she would want to go to Arthur for comfort as it's her tried and tested way

Also like I said at the start, I know its a short chapter but I felt like it was a natural stopping point and it means I'm not trying to cram loads of plot at once.

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog

[becauseplot]

I continue with Inktordem! A bit longer than I thought it would be, but it’s done :D

Spoilers for basic story setting stuff revealed in OPD ep 1.

DAY 2 — SACRIFÍCIO

The trill, beep, and thunk of the Tetris machine is the only sound in the new Suvaco Seco. Kaiser’s hands fly across the controls, and his eyes flit back and forth across the screen. He’s riding a thin line this game. The stacks of colored blocks are dangerously close to the top and restricting his ability to maneuver them, but with every block he places, he punches his score up a little closer to Samuel’s.

He’s so close this time. A few minutes, and he’s secured his crown again, easy.

There’s sudden, heavy footsteps from the door that leads down to the base. Kaiser tenses a fraction of a second before a lightning-fast glance tells him who it is.

“Hey Kaiser.”

“Hey Arthur.”

Kaiser’s eyes are squarely on the screen again by the time he says it, sending a few pieces to the far side to get them out of the way.

He hears Arthur approach. Then he feels him at his shoulder. “How long have you been at this?”

“‘Bout an hour. Fourth attempt.”

Arthur whistles. “Samuel beat your record again?”

“Not for long.” Kaiser flicks a piece too far. “Shit!” He scrambles to fix it, desperately clearing a line. Then, three more, bam bam bam.

Arthur lets out a low chuckle. “Man, your hands are moving! No time to pause and help me put away the bar stock they carried in this morning, then?”

Kaiser pauses to focus. A piece, another piece, swap that one out, line cleared. He glances at the score. “Nnnnnnngive me five minutes.”

“You got it. I’ll just get things started, then.”

Arthur leaves. Kaiser clears three lines at once, then hurries for a fourth, then swaps out his piece for a fifth. “Thanks!” he remembers to say.

“Of course!” Arthur laughs.

A quiet descends upon the bar again. Now, the sound of his thunk-click-thunk on the Tetris machine is accompanied by the sound of Arthur shifting boxes up by the front door, humming things under his breath. Kaiser feels a tension melt out of his shoulders, and an easy smile form on his lips. Somehow, he thinks his piece-placing gets faster.

Arthur passes behind him a couple times, depositing boxes on what sounds like the counter to sort the stock. On the third pass, Arthur stops at Kaiser’s shoulder again, the bottles in the box clinking.

“Ooh,” drawls Arthur. “You’re close!”

“Yep.” Kaiser says it tightly. Riding that thin line again—close to the score, but towers close to the top as well. He doesn’t have to play the long game anymore, though, he just has to at least make it to the finish line. “Nearly there…”

Arthur bounces on his heels beside him, chanting, “Kai-ser, Kai-ser, Kai-ser, Kai-ser—”

“Dude!” Kaiser laughs.

“What?”

“You’re freaking me out!”

“I’m just trying to cheer for you.”

“Cheer quietly! In your head! Leave me alone!”

Arthur cackles, shoulders shaking with it, and then— “Oh shit—“

The bottle rattle loudly. Kaiser just barely spots the violent motion of the box out of the corner of his eye before he whirls around and dives down and throws his hands at it, fingers catching under the lip just in time to keep all the glass bottles inside from tumbling out onto the tile.

“Arthur?” Kaiser says as he watches his friend get a better grip on it with his one available hand. “Are you good?”

“I’m—“

And a dreary trill plays from the Tetris machine.

They stare at each other.

“Oh,” says Arthur.

Kaiser closes his eyes and tips his head back. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck, man—”

“Kaiser I am so sorry—“

“I’m gonna cryyyyyy—”

“Oh my god I did not mean to do that I am so sorry—“

Kaiser whines, long and drawn out. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he mumbles. “Better than all of Ivete’s bottles breaking after her order finally came in.”

“I really am sorry, Kaiser,” Arthur rambles, “I should have waited for you—”

“It’s fine Arthur, really,” Kaiser emphasizes, because Arthur really does look like he might cry from this. Kaiser kind of wants to as well, honestly, but if he cries then Arthur cries and then they’re both sitting here crying and it’s awkward. For Kaiser, at least. He pulls together a smile, albeit pained. “I can beat Samuel’s record another time.”

Kaiser shifts the box from Arthur’s awkward one-handed grip into his own arms. “So, where did Ivete want these?”

[adaines-furious-feast]

Until we have canon, this is my truth...

I'm really proud of this - part three of Breaking Stars - so I'm putting it here as well as AO3. This is how I think it went down and until I get answers this is what I'm going for.

This time it was Porter knocking on Jace’s door after hours. Jace looked up from where he had been flicking through a magazine, a little surprised.

He had started giving Porter some space after the staff room conversation, but that hadn’t lasted long. It was as if he was physically incapable of not being rage inducing.

Porter would never admit it, but he didn’t really mind. It was like a steroid. He’d been having the most intense and powerful rages he’d ever had in his life. If he could bottle up Jace Stardiamond, he’d make a fortune selling it to barbarian bodybuilders and wrestlers.

He knew he was ready to take the next step. Ready to do what he had been preparing for for years.

“Aguefort says some kids have got in trouble in the Mountains of Chaos. Need us to go sort it out.”

Jace looked confused. “Who? What are they doing there?”

“I didn’t exactly ask for an account of their quest. You know how easily Aguefort gets distracted.”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit weird, isn’t it?” Jace said, standing. “I mean, they should all be getting ready for their spring break, not heading into the mountains-”

“Look, these kids could be dead right now, for all I know. Can you teleport us there or not?”

Porter could already feel his rage growing. He needed to get them out of here before that took over.

“Yeah, sure. Do you have the coordinates?”

Porter smiled, handing over a slip of paper. 

Jace and Porter appeared in the decaying temple, the teleportation creating a moment of noise and movement before the stillness swarmed back in like a vacuum. 

They were alone in the Temple of the Fallen Sun. 

“Where are the kids?” Jace asked, panic beginning to rise. He span around, looking for some clue as to what had happened. “Did someone take them somewhere?” He closed his eyes, sweeping the temple for magical signs. “There’s a faint celestial but it’s old, very old. Did Arthur say what they were doing here? Porter?”

He had opened his eyes again and they had landed on Porter. Porter was gently passing hiss hammer back and forth between his hand, a smirk on his face but his eyes filled with rage.

“W-what’s going on?” The panic had disappeared from Jace’s voice, replaced by a confusion.

He still didn’t get it. Of course he didn’t.

For a moment Jace could have sworn he heard whispered voices. Porter was certain of it, and he knew exactly what they were saying.

Do it. Do it now.

Jace seemed to have a microsecond warning, stepping back slightly, but there was no time to defend himself. Porter launched at him, landing on Jace with such force he felt bones break beneath him. The snap was audible in the silent temple, but all Porter could hear was the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears over and over and over.

One hand was almost enough to encompass Jace’s entire throat, but Porter used two, the hammer forgotten by his side. Jace coughed up blood but that promptly stopped as nothing could get in or out of his throat. He couldn’t speak, but his mouth still moved. Porter could see his own name on the other man’s lips, even if he couldn’t hear it. 

Jace clawed desperately at Porter’s hands. Even if there was some magic he had access too, any thoughts of that were knocked out of his mind by the instinctual urge to grab at his throat. His nails drew blood but it wasn’t nearly enough to make Porter let him go.

Seconds felt like hours. Jace’s movements got slower and Porter could feel the pulse that was pressing against his fingers get weaker and weaker until it stopped.

Only once he was certain he was dead did Porter stand up. 

Rage still burned within him and he could feel his entire body throbbing. 

He looked down at Jace, fear and panic still etched into his face. He was so… small. Porter had never noticed it before. Just how insignificant he really was.

There was still time to cast revivify. He had diamonds with him. It would be easy. He could still turn his back on this path. 

The seconds slipped away and Porter stayed still, just staring, until it was too late.

That door had closed.

There were very few things he could do now, but he still had options. He could make up some story. The mountains of chaos were full of monsters. One of them could have taken them by surprise, killed Jace, ate his body. Jace could have simply slipped and fallen into one of the seemingly bottomless crevices that trapped pilgrims from time to time. 

Or he could bring him back to Aguefort. Get someone to resurrect him. Would Aguefort even care? He seemed to like deranged lunatics.

Or…

Porter looked down at the red crystal in his hand. He had come this far. Why stop now?

The spirits of his ancestors swirled around him as Porter crouched back down and pressed the crystal into Jace’s chest. It wasn’t sharp, like a knife being plunged into a body. It felt more like a stone being pressed against skin. Even with Porter’s strength it took force to break the skin. A little blood leaked out, but there was nothing pumping it through Jace’s veins. 

For agonising seconds, Porter waited, not sure what to expect as his ancestors whispered encouragement into his mind.

Yes, yes, this is right. This is it.

More blood began to spill over Porter’s hand and he realised he could feel a heartbeat. It felt as if it was coming from the crystal itself, which now sank into Jace’s chest with ease. Porter took his hands away and sat back. Rage gave way to awe.

There was no sudden gasp for air but Jace’s breathing did come back suddenly. His hands went back to his throat, still trying to remove the hands that had already been taken away. He stood up slowly, his eyes searching for answers in the dust on the floor. 

“Wh-wh-what did you just do to me?” Jace whispered. He finally looked up at Porter, fixing a look so intense that Porter felt as if he was being looked through. Something had happened during those minutes he was dead. 

“I revived you. You’re welcome.”

Jace shook his head, but it was barely noticeable. “No no no no. I’ve been revived before. I’ve been revived before and that wasn’t- that wasn’t it. What did you just do to me?”

It was a tone Porter had never heard from Jace before. It sounded both as if he was about to laugh and burst into tears. His hands were shaking as he spoke.

“What did you see?” Porter whispered.

“What did you do to me,” Jace repeated again.

“Tell him what you saw, ” a wicked voice spat and Jace felt himself thrown forward into a bow.

Jace looked up at Porter and that- that look was one Porter was familiar with. Hatred.

“I- I saw nothing,” Jace stuttered. “Not blackness, just nothing. But there was a red- a red glow. Coming from inside me. And pain. So much pain. I- I- I- just saying I can’t describe it isn’t right. It was like- no I can’t. It- it- I could feel my mind melting. It was driving me insane. Then there was a- a- a voice. Something- something powerful saying to submit or stay there forever. I- I- it wasn’t a choice. I couldn’t. I agreed. I- what did you do to me? Who was that?”

“The god of war. Wrath. Rage.”

Porter felt every hair on his body stand on end as he spoke. It was perfect.

Jace had crawled back into a kneeling position now. He looked up at Porter, confused. “There isn’t a… who?”

“There used to be,” Porter said. “But we, the Sunstones of old, couldn’t make her into what we needed. So we’re taking that domain, and giving it to someone that will do the job properly. Me.”

“You? You’re insane. You’re actually insane. When Arthur finds out about this-”

“Arthur isn’t going to find out about anything,” Porter said. He took a step forward and Jace fell back. “Maybe I am insane. Maybe that’s what’s needed. But my family has been working on this for generations and I am going to be the one to succeed. And you’ve already submitted.”

“I-I-I had no choice and no idea what I was agreeing to,” Jace said. “That’s not right. That’s not just.”

“I’m not going to be the god of justice, mate,” Porter said with a smirk. He could see the anger growing behind Jace’s eyes, practically feel the rage seeping into every cell in his body. “You’ve agreed. Unless you want to go back to that void.”

Jace grit his teeth. His face flushed red, matching beautifully with the purple bruises now blossoming on his neck. Sweat and tears mingled on his cheeks. 

“I hate you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Porter said, nonchalantly. “Now come on, we’ve got work to do.”

[headingalaxys-sweet]

Spooky Season Shenanigans for the Nekos Part 1

America-Cat 

He begins to gather clumps from his litter box and soil that is damp from the backyard. America cat has taken some of his owners socks which he uses as casings to store his ‘ammunition’. This crazy cat is even in the midst of crafting an underground lair of sorts. He’s stored a few long lighters, fireworks, toilet paper rolls, eggs he’s brought to ‘ferment’, masks, costumes, etc. America cat is going to be putting on an entire production. If he already wasn’t the King of Halloween this will make him the king now for like ever meow! 

Canada-Cat 

Has gone to cat markets, candle shops, and bakeries where cat’s all over the world come to visit when Sept 1st hits. There is one shop in particular that sells this legendary Maple Fish Cake, which only available during this time of year. They’re so popular in fact that they have to limit cats with only being able to purchase 5 of these specialty cakes for the season. [Yes, there were many years where scammer cats hoarded the entire stock of cakes in the morning. They’d mark up the price of them 300% to say that ridiculous is an understatement but the cakes are that yummy. And they may or may not have a special cat-nip lacd in them] 

Canada-cat tentatively passes by the costume shops debating with himself on if he’s going to attend his brothers cat’s annual Halloween party and prank-a-thon. 

China-Cat

Busy raiding his owners' pastry / cookbooks to make an entire special Fall menu of food for the season. He will do more to spend time in the sun while it still lasts. China-cat wants his dark chestnut fur to get nice and toasty so he can store it away for the Winter months. [So his old bones don’t get frozen and brittle.] China-cats favorite pass time is to go to Yi Dian Dian & The Alley once or twice a day to get a hot or cold milk tea that occasionally has Boba in it. 

England-Cat 

His tail will be flicking back and forth lowly on the carpet. The season where he got to be on the fresh grass or out on the open sea. When he daydreamed about the wide open waters he thought about the days that he was a mouser alongside his swashbuckling and commanding owner. As England cat was in the midst of his thoughts clouds made the sky darker and the air became colder. When his head rises he was able to catch the last milliseconds of a lightning boldt. He hears low chattering rising from the basement. 

‘Arthur must be at it again so he can try to win Halloween this year against that Yank. I guess now is a good time for me to maybe get ready for America cats shenanigans this year as well.’

France-Cat

He’d invited ‘Charmy Chartreux,’ a famous cat known for doing home holiday decorating, planning, and execution. By the time Spet rolls around, France cat will be ready for the season of the spooky but make it posh & elegant. Tangerine tea lights, pumpkins with the flur de lese, macaroons, & the Eiffel Tower carved into them. He even managed to make a deal with Canada-Cat to have a shipment of Maple Fish Cakes sent to him. 

Germany-Cat 

Planning safety guides for cats and what to do when you’ve had too much cat-nip contingent plans. He knows America-cat is planning an insane rager complete with ill-advised pranks, stunts, and performances all meant to stroke his ego. Germany-cat also makes note to buy extra sausages, treats, and Apfelsaft (Apple Juice—just make it sparkling). He does this so no cat is on an empty stomach and has its whiskers twisted by catnip. 

Italy Cats 

They haven’t thought about Halloween all that much. They’re just vibing with the season changes. The crisper air carried the fresh scent of harvested grapes, olives, pumpkins, etc. The two of them love stealing Felicianos tortelli di zucca (pumpkin soup), minestrone, and strudel di mele. 

“Germany! Germany! Help me! The kitties have run a-way with my delicious food again!” 

Japan-Cat 

Yet, another cat who loves to watch the season transition into the next. He adores watching the thousands of leaves float down to the ground. The mesmerizing colors of the fall leaves are cornsilk, fawn, midnight greens, and burnt oranges. All these colors melded together to create a beautiful scene that is ephemeral and sort of angelic in a way. Japan-cat has a special stash of tuna that he likes to eat when he finds a magnificent view. 

While he eats he’s working out how he’ll survive another America-cat rager. 

Russia-Cat 

Happily roaming the streets receiving belly rubs, scratchies, and treats from the last of the summertime tourists. Halloween only seems to come to his mind when his owner mentions it or begins to decorate for it mid-September. When Ivan does begin to get the decorations out Russia-cat gets far too comfortable in the organs of one of the pumpkins Ivan has made. 

“Really, my little cat?” He crouches down to pet his loveable but somewhat mischievous cat. 

“Meow.” (Da.) Russia-cats beady eyes will be looking at Ivan like: “I’m cute and a cat. What are you not understanding? I’m number one now, BELLY RUBS human BELLY RUBS!” 

[bellamyblakru]

@its-hyperfixation i am so fucking sorry its so late😭today was the first day i tested negative!!! and with that good news, i wrote you a tiny oneshot in honor of our wedding anniversary. i love you so so so so so much. and im continuously proud of everything you do. im beyond grateful to have you in my life, and i hope i can keep you in it for absolutely ever. thank you for sticking by my side for so long😭🩷i will stay there for as long as you’ll have me!!!! i love you my love, my arthur to my merlin, my rowan to my aelin, my f1 to my kpop🥺🩷one day!!!

do not feel sorry (it’s just like a yawn when it is not enough)

Merlin was trying—really, he was, but after five nights in a row of the same fucking nightmare, sleep was almost as nonexistent as his appetite at this point.

But he was fine.

He told Gaius that he was fine after he tripped and fell over the desk that’s been in that same spot for over five years, he told Gwen he was fine after stumbling into her during their morning walks, he told Lance and Gwaine he was fine when he managed to avoid having lunch with them four days in a row.

Did they believe him? That didn’t really matter, nor did he try to look too closely at their suspicious eyes following him everywhere he went.

Arthur pretended not to see Merlin drop all the laundry the third time in a row, or when he spilled all the dishes three inches away from the table, or when he slipped on the floors he just cleaned and fell directly into the king’s arms. Arthur had simply righted Merlin back up and went on his way. It was actually quite out of character—so much so that each time Merlin fumbled, he stayed completely still, waiting for the yells of annoyance that weirdly never came.

By the sixth day of mistakes, Merlin had enough.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur peered up from his lunch, looking first at the dirty laundry spread out on the floor then at the frustrated, and rather exhausted, Merlin whose hands were firmly on his hips out of frustration.

“Me?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Yes, you. Who else would I be asking?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur chose to ignore the jabs for now, focusing on Merlin’s face as it morphed back and forth between confusion and tiredness.

“Are you sure?”

Arthur stood up, stretched, came around his desk, and then leaned against it to have a better look at his servant.

“Yes.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes, but it truly did seem his king was feeling alright. He figured he might as well talk about what was wrong here.

“Well,” Merlin started, unsure yet loud enough that he could hear, “you haven’t been yelling at me.”

Surprisingly, Arthur let out a loud chuckle, the noise making Merlin’s eyes widen in even more confusion.

“What’s so funny about that?” Merlin crossed his arms defiantly, kicking some pretend dust on the ground to avoid looking back up. “It’s true.”

“Ah, Merlin,” Arthur laughed a little more. “Is that the only thing you wanted to talk about?”

Merlin would be lying if he said he knew that his king meant—and with the lack of everything lately, he was sure it was affecting what he could have missed.

“I think so?”

Sighing, Arthur walked towards Merlin, and then suddenly guided them both to the edge of his giant bed. Merlin let him—out of confusion and mostly because of the fact that he couldn’t fight him off even if he wanted to.

“Morgana and Gwen told me I had to be patient with you, but, honestly, with the way you’re going, I think you would kill youself before saying anything to me.”

Merlin tilted his head, “With the way I’m going?”

“Dumbass,” Arthur gently flicked his servant’s forehead. “Do you even know that you look like a walking carcass?”

“Do I?” Merlin looked down at himself, moving his fingers back and forth. “I think I look normal.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Arthur sighed again, rubbing his own forehead in frustration. “Merlin-,” he looked the warlock directly in the eyes, the motion freezing Merlin more than anything could, “-what’s wrong? Why aren’t you getting sleep?”

As if that was all it took, Merlin immediately slouched, his eyes watering up at the question, and he tried to cover it up with his hands holding his hands. But it was too late, Arthur had already seen it, lightly forcing Merlin’s hands away to rub the tears off himself. The featherlight action was so tender that Merlin felt like he was barely even there.

Was this actually his Arthur? His Arthur, the one that gets annoyed too easily? Mad quickly? Kills for a living? Was he always this soft?

“Merlin,” another tear wiped away, “please tell me what’s been going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

That was the point, wasn’t it? Merlin never wanted to let people in, to see the world as burnt and empty as he sometimes saw it, to see the world as broken and shattered and lost as he did.

“I…”

And when Arthur only looked back at him with so much concern and attention, Merlin felt he had no other choice but to tell the truth.

“I…been having nightmares.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

Merlin hesitated. Did he want to? No. Should he? He remembered his mother once telling him that burdens are better lifted when they were shared by the shoulders of the people we loved, and suddenly, he didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.

His head fell to his king’s shoulder, “It’s always the same. I’m on the pyre. You’re on the one in front of me. But,” Merlin shook his head into Arthur, the king responding with kind reassurances and soft motions on the warlock’s back. “But I never burn—it’s you. I watch you burn and burn and burn, and I can never get to you in time. One night, I would get mere inches away before it exploded, while the other I would be too tightly bound myself to even get an inch closer—but every night I never make it to you. I can never save you.”

By the end, Merlin’s cries were being completely absorbed by Arthur’s newly cleaned red tunic, but the king didn’t complain nor move, only holding the warlock closer to him.

“When I try to eat, I can only taste soot. When I blink too long, I see your face staring at me through the flames. When I walk, I see you getting further away from me. I’m so tired, Arthur…”

Merlin’s voice quieted as he continued, his wet eyes blinking slowly on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur took Merlin’s face between his hands, gently lifting the servant to face him, before whispering, “You’re safe here, Merlin. You can sleep here—I’ll keep us both safe, okay? No one can get in here and take me away.”

Merlin drowsily nodded, his face covered in snot and tears and a sadness that Arthur hated to see more than he could even admit.

Slowly, Arthur moved them both to lay on his bed, Merlin tucked safely in his side, the warlock’s legs wrapped around the king’s torso as if to make sure the man wouldn’t move a muscle as he slept. And even though Arthur wasn’t originally tired, being wrapped up in someone he loved so completely drew him right into a peaceful sleep (and not that he will mention it, but these past few days watching Merlin was ruining his own sleep schedule, too.).

By the time Merlin woke up, it was early daylight. He barely opened his eyes, opting to slowly rubbing the person’s back that he held in his arms.

His eyes flew open and his body stiffened once he remembered he doesn’t sleep with anyone, but he only found a softly smiling, already awake Arthur looking at him with so much love that Merlin’s fully melted back into him.

Was this heaven? Merlin would have to say it was at least it’s his perfect heaven.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur asked, his voice still a bit raspy from sleep.

Merlin didn’t avoid the usual urge to move Arthur’s hair out of his face, “Better. You?”

Humming his “good,” Arthur basically purred into Merlin’s hand, making the warlock giggle, moving to play with the king’s hair instead.

After a few seconds of peaceful silence, Merlin felt the guilt gnaw at his heart enough to stop and look at the king in his arms.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Arthur huffed, moving Merlin’s hand back to their place in his hair. “You made everyone worry, you dingus. I was yelled at to give you space by multiple people—but it turns out I have very little patience for such things.”

Merlin laughed lightly—that was more like the king than anything else that has happened lately.

“Merlin,” Arthur smiled, making sure the servant was looking at him. “You are not alone anymore. I know you had to be for so long, but you’re not anymore. Not as long as I’m around. I know how much shit you carry—please let me help you hold it all. I have broad shoulders, I can carry more than your scrawny little things.”

Again, Merlin puffed out a laugh, but he stopped in favor of holding Arthur’s face, holding the golden king so gingerly as though he was made out of porcelain.

“If I burn, you burn?”

Arthur took Merlin’s hand from his face and kissed his palm—“Wherever you go, I go. And if it be to death, let it be. I go willingly. No fires can stop our future. We will always find our way around the scorched edges.”

“Together, huh?” Merlin whispered, still in a bit of a disbelief that this was real, that Arthur had accepted him so completely that they could do this as one.

“Hmmhmm, but before that,” Arthur jumped up randomly, surprising Merlin as the king’s hand reached out for him. “Let’s get breakfast.”

Giggling, Merlin gratefully grabbed the offered hand, his starving stomach roaring as if in answer.

It wasn’t going to be easy or perfect or without pain, but his dream was wrong. He knew that now.

If Arthur was on the pyre, Merlin was always going to reach him—no one, nothing, could ever stop him otherwise.

[dandelionprints]

Men With Blue Eyes and Dark Hair

Pairing: Tommy x Reader (Y/N)

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve in Birmingham and Tommy can’t shake the dislike he has for the barmaid working at The Garrison. What will he do when they come face to face?

Warnings: bad language, mentions of injury and blood, angst.

Word Count: I got very carried away on this one, 5229

A/N: I created this for @runnning-outof-time Holiday BINGO challenge using the four prompts from the forth line down horizontally; “must include: a kiss, forced proximity, Christmas Eve, angst”. Although this has a slight Christmas theme it’s not too Christmassy so perfect to enjoy at any time of the year! Thank you for creating this challenge, K, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Tag list is here if you’d like to be added to it!

Full credit of GIF to the creator

The smoke from his nearly spent cigarette billowed out in front of him as he made his way down the cobbled streets, the cold December air nipping at his cheeks. Fresh snow had covered the ground and he couldn’t help but think how much nicer the streets looked when you couldn’t see the dirt and smoke of Birmingham. Snow was still falling, filling in the footprints on the pavement made by other passers by.

He flicked the now burnt out cigarette onto the ground, almost excited to be out of the dropping temperatures and into the warmth of The Garrison.

His stomach was in knots as he reached the entrance, a feeling he wasn’t used to.

“Oh ‘ere he is! How are ya Tommy lad?”

A lanky man with slicked back hair approached him not a second after he stepped through the door and into the bustling laughter filled pub.

“Hello Arthur, nice to see you on your feet for once”

Tommy brushed his coat down removing the flakes of snow that had landed on it as he made his way over to the bar with Arthur in tow.

“Well I thought since it’s Christmas Eve I’d better save the fun for later, besides, that pretty barmaid is working today”

Fuck.

Tommy had hoped she’d decided to take Arthur up on his offer of the night off, a request made by Tommy himself to his brother. Fat chance of that happening, it would be far too convenient.

“Well brother, I’m sure if you give her your best smile then she’ll take you home with her”, Tommy smirked, trying to cover up the tension he could feel spreading across his face. He removed his coat and hung it over the back of the stool.

“Nah I don’t think so, Tom. I ‘eard she likes men with dark hair and blue eyes”, Arthur slapped Tommy across the back before taking a seat next to him, beckoning for the pretty barmaid to come over and serve them.

“I think she likes whoever pays attention to her unless they have dark hair and blue eyes from what I’ve heard”, he reached for a cigarette from his pocket, doing his best to avoid eye contact with the woman who was now walking over to them.

“Same as usual, boys?”, she smiled sweetly at them both, resting her palms on the bar and leaning forwards slightly. Tommy would have missed her smile had he done better at avoiding her approach. Fuck that beautiful smile.

Arthur looked to Tommy, waiting for him to say something but soon realised it wasn’t going to happen.

“Yes please love, make sure you take this and keep it for yourself. You’ve been workin’ long, ‘ard shifts ‘ere at the pub, you could have taken the night off like I told you to!”Arthur gave a side glance in Tommy's direction before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a five pound note.

Tommy snuck a look at his brother. What the fuck was he doing giving her that much money?

Her eyes widened at the sight of the note and she shifted uncomfortably on her feet knowing that Tommy would probably be quite frankly pissed off that Arthur was giving her pay way above her monthly wage, let alone her daily wage.

She hadn’t had much interaction with Tommy, well other than that one evening in the pub but neither of them spoke of it again since that night, but she knew him well enough from the things Arthur would drunkenly tell her when he’d come in to raid the bar.

“Arthur, I really can’t accept this. Thank you so much for the offer but this is way too much, I couldn’t possibly…” she began.

“Now now, I won’t hear of it. You keep it, love. Buy yourself something nice for Christmas”

She shifted her gaze to Tommy who was now looking even more tense than usual, a freshly lit cigarette between his lips. It almost made her jolt when he raised his head and looked at her, his icy eyes of blue almost burning right through her.

“She’s right y’know Arthur. That really is too much”, he held his smoke between his fingers now, not breaking eye contact with her as he spoke, “two shillings would do”

Her mouth dropped open slightly, the embarrassment from this whole interaction causing a fresh flush of red to her cheeks. She pushed the five pound note back towards Arthur as Tommy flicked the shillings onto the bar, looking away from his gaze as quickly as she could.

“Tom, don't be a stingy bastard!” Arthur grabbed the coins from the bar and pushed the note back towards the barmaid who now looked as though she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

“I’m not, two shillings is more than she’s used to. Besides, I heard John only gave her one shilling for her duties the other night”, there was a slight amount of mocking in his tone, one that he hoped would hit a nerve.

“I’m sorry, what?” Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to Tommy fully now, raising her hands up to settle on either side of her waist.

“You heard what I said, now go and get our drinks. I’m sure Arthur will give you the shillings back at the end of the night”.

Her blood was boiling now. Had he just insinuated that she was a whore? What had John told Tommy? Was he trying to make her feel worthless? If he was, it was definitely working. She wanted to scream in his face that she was anything but a whore, that she’d only ever slept with one man, but something inside her kept her tongue from spilling out all the words she wanted to say. Instead she relaxed her features not wanting Tommy to know that he’d well and truly pissed her off.

“Of course, Mr. Shelby. Right away”

She scurried off to grab their usual brand of Irish whiskey and had half a mind to spit in the glass that she’d give to Tommy. As much as that would bring his secret joy she knew better than to fuck with a Peaky Blinder, especially Tommy Shelby.

Grabbing the bottle by the neck as well as two whiskey glasses she soon returned to the brothers sitting at the bar, both men watching her every move.

“Your drinks, gentlemen. Will that be all?”

She could feel the anger and humiliation from Tommys words only moments ago still simmering under the surface but did her best to keep a smile on her face. She needed this job no matter how shit her boss's brother treated her.

“For now, yes. Oh and uh, Y/N, John said to tell you he had a good time the other night”

What the fuck was he talking about? And when the fuck did he care to remember her name? At this point her mind was racing with questions, ones she knew there was no point in asking especially not to Tommy Shelby. She’d already found out from this whole conversation that he wasn’t in the mood to talk and would more than likely fire her on his brother's behalf right there on the spot if she so much as looked at him funny.

She huffed as quietly as she could before gently nodding to Arthur, picking up the stray empty glasses scattered along the bar as she made her way down to the other end, as far away from Tommy fucking Shelby as she could.

“What the fuck was all that about brother?”, Arthur turned to Tommy now, his face a puzzle of confusion, “She’s a good lass she is! What the fuck are you doing treating her like that? She’s the best worker I’ve ‘ad ‘ere in a long while. And what’s all this business with John?”

Tommy gave nothing away as he stubbed out his cigarette into the ashtray in front of them.

“All these bloody questions. A good worker she may be Arthur, but I know a whore when I see one”, he poured the amber liquid into both of the glasses sat next to the bottle and took a swig from one of them, “anyway, what’s all this fucking mistletoe doing around the pub? It looks like a fucking forest in here”

“Well I thought since it’s Christmas, why not give people the chance to get lucky tonight! Hung it myself I did”, Arthur smiled almost proudly and looked around the crowded room, watching as couples took full advantage beneath the Christmas sprig.

“Yeah I can tell”, Tommy smirked then, downing the rest of the liquid in his glass before setting it back onto the bar.

There was a sound of glass, and a lot of it, breaking followed by a cheer from the merry drunks.

Tommy looked over to the end of the bar where the sudden crash came from to see Y/N crouched down on the floor collecting the shards of glass with a cloth.

What the fuck was she doing picking it up with her hands? Before he could even question what he was doing he stood from his stool and made his way through the still jeering onlookers.

“Eh! You lot! That’s enough, go back to drinking and being merry”, his voice bellowed out across the room, demanding to be heard.

And heard it was. The gabble of noise quietened down the second the crowd had realised who’d spoken the words.

“Fucking dozy one you are aren’t you”, the other barman working that night stood above Y/N, making no effort to hide his sneer as he spoke.

She looked up at the greasy looking man, he always did piss her off and that moment was no exception.

“Eh, you. Mind your fucking mouth and get back to work”.

Little had the barman noticed that Tommy was standing at the entrance of the bar, his best scowl upon his brow.

“Yes Mr. Shelby”, the barman almost jumped at hearing Tommy's voice.

“And don’t fucking talk to her like that, next time I ‘ear you say anything disrespectful I’ll drag you out of here myself. Just because my brother owns this pub doesn’t mean I won’t deal with the rubbish inside”.

The man could only nod sheepishly as he scurried away to serve a group of men who had clearly already had too much to drink.

Y/N could hardly believe her ears. Why the fuck was Tommy Shelby now coming to her aid after making it very clear he didn’t like her? This man was a fucking walking contradiction.

Before she knew it he was down on his knees beside her, taking the cloth full of glass from her hands and throwing it in the bin, the sound of the shards crashing down as they hit the bottom of it.

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Shelby. Thank you but I can handle this”

He looked at her then, his cool blue eyes staring straight into hers. She could have sworn she felt herself shiver.

“Not with a fucking cloth you can’t, you’ll cut your hands. By the looks of it you’ve managed to drop a whole bottle of whiskey, my whiskey in fact, you need a mop and brush”

Why did she feel like she was being belittled right now? Ignoring the remark about the fact that yes indeed it was his bottle of whiskey, she sighed as silently as she could, not wanting to piss him off even further.

“Yes Mr. Shelby”

She stood and brushed down her dress, specs of whiskey had flicked onto it with the impact of the amber liquid hitting the floor.

He looked up at her now. God she was so beautiful, especially in that red dress. Y/N turned away from him without so much as another word and made her way towards the cellar where copious amounts of alcohol, as well as the mop and brush, were stored.

Tommy decided that now was as good a time as any to grab himself another bottle of his whiskey, he usually kept a stash of them behind the bar. Still crouched down, he scoured the empty shelves but only saw dust and broken glasses. He sighed to himself realising that he’d have to make a journey to the cellar. Did he wait until she came back to go so that he didn’t have to talk to her again? Did he go down and possibly have awkward small talk with her?

“Fuck it”, he said aloud to himself, taking a deep breath in before exhaling, standing upright.

“Ere Tom, grab us another bottle, this one’s nearly done”, Arthur’s voice shouted over the noise of the growing number of people in the room.

“Already on it brother”

Tommy made his start towards the cellar, passing the barman on the way and making sure to give him his best stare as he did. He didn’t know why he’d decided to speak up when he heard the lousy worker insult Y/N but something inside him felt protective of this practical stranger, despite already being burnt by her.

Fuck it, of course he knew why. No matter how much he wanted to pretend to dislike the pretty barmaid, he couldn’t help but admit to himself it was purely envy that was making him act so cold towards her. Why did she spend the night with John and not him?

The cellar lights were on as he entered the doorway, barrels of alcohol piled as high as the wooden beamed ceiling, with yellowing walls from the mixture of damp and cigarette smoke. The room would have been silent if it wasn’t for the gentle sound of humming coming from the other side of the room.

“What song is that you’re humming?” His voice broke the otherwise quiet atmosphere and he made his way over steadily to her.

Y/N was stood over by the small sink in the corner of the room, doing her best to attempt to fill the bucket she’d need to help wash away the sticky whiskey mess she’d made behind the bar.

She startled at the sudden sound of his voice, her hands slipping on the tap causing the water to come spitting out.

“Fuck”, she exclaimed, quickly grabbing the latch to shut it off.

Tommy chuckled slightly. He would deny it if she asked but he loved to watch her get all flustered, the way her hair fell over onto her cheeks, the sudden look of embarrassment on her face.

“What song was that you were humming? Don’t think I’ve heard it before”, he pulled out the carton of cigarettes from his pocket, taking one out and placing it between his lips before offering Y/N one.

She used the back of her hand to brush the hair away from her forehead, water now dripping ever so slightly down her face. She hesitated as she stepped forward to take the smoke from him, placing it between her own lips and allowing him to light it for her.

“It’s called ‘I wanna be loved by you’. It’s a good song, you should listen to it some time”

The scoff that came from his lips did nothing but piss her off more. Why was she even entertaining conversation with this man when all he seemed to like doing was judging everything she said and did?

“What’s the matter, choke on the smoke?”, her arms crossed now. She knew she could very well be treading on thin ice but there was only so much she could take, he clearly thought she was a lesser being to him so why bother trying to be nice.

“Nope. Just thought that maybe you had someone in mind when you were humming it, John maybe?” He took a drag and arched his eyebrow. Maybe now he’d find out the barmaids true intentions with his brother.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why would it be about John?” The anger in her voice was evident but at this point who the fuck cared. The little jibes he’d made at her this evening still played on her mind as much as she wished they hadn’t.

Tommy took another drag of his cigarette, unfazed by her sudden apparent change of the sweet young woman he’d spoken to earlier.

“I mean, he said you two had a nice chat the other night, shortly after we did that is. Then he showed you the finest sights of Birmingham, along with his cock. Explains why he didn’t come home that night”

Her mouth gaped open with eyebrows raised, even she couldn’t hold back the shock from this new information she was hearing with her own ears. That’s when she felt it, the rage burning from deep within her chest, the sudden urge to lunge at him and give him her best slap across the face.

She made a start toward him, tossing the cigarette that she’d barely taken a drag from before stopping only inches away from his face. He stood before her unwavering, almost finding amusement in her sudden change of character. Fuck she was even more sexy when she was angry.

“Look Tommy. I don’t know what the fuck it is about you and John trying to make out that I’m some fucking whore or something but I’ve had enough! He did no such thing that night, we only spoke at the bar and that’s it. The truth is he got completely out of his skull and spilled his heart out to me about how fucking sick and tired he is of your bullshit, making him do all of the dogs work while you sit up there on your throne of money and power!” She knew there was venom in her words but there was nothing she could do to stop it and at this point she really didn’t care, it was too late to turn back now.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed and his plump lips parted slightly as he tried to take in this new information. Why the fuck hadn’t John said any of this to him and why had he lied about spending the night with Y/N? He could see the fire in her eyes and could tell that she was telling the truth, she wouldn’t have this much rage if she wasn’t.

“And another thing Tommy, I’ve only ever fucked one man in my entire life so if that’s what makes me a whore in your books then so be it! John didn’t go home that night because he passed out in one of the booths. I left him there with a glass of water and a bucket to throw up in before I left, there was no point in trying to get him up cos he was so intoxicated it would be like trying to wake the dead”.

She hadn’t realised it but her hands were clenched into fists causing her nails to dig into the palm of her hand. Fuck she’d had enough, what was it with men and their incessant need to lie?

Tommy was still stood there speechless, unable to form any kind of response to her words which was a first for him. Usually he had an answer for everything but not right at this very moment.

“You know what? I’m done. I’ll find another way to pay my rent, maybe I’ll ask Lizzie if there’s a job going seeing as by the sound of it I’m already pretty fucking good at it!”

She knocked into him as she began her move towards the door but before she could get any further she felt Tommys hand grab her wrist.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

Before he could respond the lights cut out leaving them both in complete darkness, the sound of displeased groans echoing out from the pub above.

The warmth of his skin touching hers gave her chills. Y/N didn’t want to admit it to herself but there was no denying that part of her liked it. She quickly brushed that thought off though as she took the opportunity to pull her arm free from his grasp and do her best to still make her way out of this situation.

She reached out in front of her to try and grab anything that would help guide her out of this crowded room and as far away from Tommy Shelby as she could. She didn’t make it far though as her hand connected with something sharp and it felt like an electric shock had been sent running up her arm.

The sudden sound of glass hitting the floor followed by her shrieks was enough to send shivers down Tommys spine as he now snapped out of his racing thoughts.

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay, what’s happened?”

“Oh fuck this hurts”

Although she couldn’t see it she could feel a warmth now spreading across her hand and feel something trickling down her fingers. She clutched at her injured hand with the other and squeezed as much as she could.

Tommy was already fighting his way through the darkness trying to get to her as quickly as he could, bumping into her just a few steps ahead.

“What happened, are you okay?” His hands reached up in front of him trying to grab whatever part of her he could in his panic, until they landed softly on either side of her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears and a sudden rush of guilt swept over his body.

“No I’m not fucking okay, my hands been cut open and I’m pretty sure it’s bad”, she half squealed back at him, doing her best to fight off the pain.

He lowered his hands down softly until they found hers. Even an idiot could tell in the blackness of the room there was a large amount of blood and that something needed to be done to stop it quickly. Without a second thought he reached for his neck and pulled off his tie.

“Here, let me wrap your hand up, we need to stop the bleeding”, his hands were scrambling to search for hers once more and even though she didn’t want to accept Tommys help she also didn’t want to be bleeding profusely, especially not on Christmas Eve.

She winced as the tie was wrapped tightly around the injury, her heartbeat prominently throbbing from the site of the open wound.

“How can a stupid cut on the hand be this painful”, she sniffed, using the back of her free hand to try and wipe away the tears that were flowing.

He smiled to himself, almost relieved that she was talking to him normally again, though she couldn’t see it.

“That’s what deep cuts are like I’m afraid, I think sometimes it’s worse when you can’t see the damage that’s been done”, he finished tying the tourniquet and placed his hand on top of hers.

As if the electrics could hear his words the lights suddenly switched back on, the sound of cheering filling the pub above once more.

He looked up at her and a pang of sadness punched him right in the gut. Her pale, tear stained cheeks stuck out like a sore thumb and the way her chest rose and fell trying to regulate her breathing made him ache. If he hadn’t listened to John and hadn’t just assumed that everything he was saying was true then none of this would’ve happened in the first place.

She finally allowed her eyes to meet his only to find that they looked full of guilt. As much as under the surface she still had so much anger she also almost felt sorry for him. Had he been a dick and assumed she was a whore? Yes. Was he acting that way because she’d rejected him that night? Maybe. Even still, the look on his face made her doubt her anger and instead the emotion that took its place was pity.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”, he said, breaking the silence. She nodded in response and followed him over to the sink, watching as he turned on the water and gently reached for her still throbbing hand, “I’ll leave the tie on, we don’t want more blood coming out. Let’s just get what’s on your fingers and arm off, can’t have you going back out there in that state”.

He smiled as softly as he could though his eyebrows were still slightly furrowed with sadness. Fuck her hand looked bad. Even with the tie covering the worst of the cut he could tell that the glass had cut deep enough to cause quite bad damage.

She winced as his hand once again reached for hers and he began gently running the water over her fingers, doing his best to wipe as much blood off as he could. The red water swirled around the sink and ran down the plughole never seeming to lessen in colour.

He picked up a rag from the side of the sink and began to gently pat her fingers dry. There was still a silence between them that felt uncomfortable.

“Tommy?” Her voice cut through it like a knife, causing his head to shoot up and look her right in the eye. Her soft features were being caught by the light and his breath hitched in his throat for a split second, he had to subtly cough to disguise it as best he could.

“Yes?”

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, “has the reason you’ve been so off with me been because I wouldn’t go home with you that night?” Her voice came out quietly, but her words couldn’t have cut through Tommy any clearer.

He opened his mouth to speak but soon closed it as the words he wanted to say escaped him. Tommy Shelby wasn’t known for grumbling over being rejected by a woman and he wasn’t about to start now. Well, he didn’t want to start anyway.

Y/N saw that he wasn’t going to give her a clear answer, of course he wasn’t.

“Tommy. The only reason I didn’t go home with you that night is because you’d had too much to drink, you could hardly keep yourself from falling off the stool”, she paused unsure whether to continue or not, shifting on her feet on the spot, “Besides, how did I know if you were just looking for a fuck or if you really liked me? I’m not the kind of girl to sleep around like I’ve already told you. I’ve also seen the kind of women that you entertain, beautiful women with beautiful dresses and beautiful jewellery and hair pinned neatly in place. I couldn’t be further from any of those things”

“Don’t say that, of course you are, in fact you’re more beautiful than any of them put together. The thing with women, Y/N, those so called beautiful women that I entertain, they’re just a fuck. They have no substance to them, none of them have that I’ve met anyway. All they care about is their fancy cars and the jewels around their neck bought with daddy’s money. You on the other hand, you’re different”

He swallowed hard then, was he really about to admit his feelings for her and reveal the real reason he was acting shitty towards her?

“You see, the other night when we had that chat, I found myself realising that you’re different to any girl I’ve ever known. You actually give a shit, you don’t want to fuck me for my money or for the fact I’m a peaky blinder. You wanted to know Tommy, the real Tommy, not the Tommy that earns all this money or goes to socialite events. I’ve never had a woman be so genuinely interested in what I had to say. I think that’s why I was so jealous of John and wrongly pissed off with you because the thought of you liking him instead of me hurt too much”

He didn’t realise it but he’d been staring at the floor and at pretty much anything he could that meant he didn’t have to look at Y/N, it was unlike him to be so open with anyone let alone a woman he barely knew. When he did decide to look up at her, a smile was on her face, that beautiful fucking smile. His own lips raised at the corners then, unable to hide any longer.

“Maybe that’s why he lied to you, to try and get his own back for making him do all the dog's work. He also told me that night that he knew you were trying it on with me so he obviously saw an opportunity and took it. I wish you’d just told me all of this in the first place instead of being such a dick about it all, I thought you hated me”

“I’m sorry I’m just not very good at the whole opening up thing. I’d rather cover it up like dirt in a tunnel than say how I really feel. Besides, I don’t hate you, not one bit”, he stepped forward closing the gap between them, taking her hands in his.

She winced as he connected with the bloody cut, “Fuck that hurts”, she half laughed and hissed at the same time.

“Shit sorry, I completely forgot”, he dropped his hand loose from hers and gently pulled her into him by the waist, a smile playing on his lips.

Tommy looked up above him and noticed that Arthur had taken the time to hang mistletoe just about everywhere he could, including down here in the cellar. Maybe he was planning on getting lucky tonight? Tommy didn’t care, he just knew that it was the perfect opportunity to do what he’d been aching to for so long.

“I heard you like men with blue eyes and dark hair?” He questioned, their faces only inches apart.

“And where did you hear that?” She asked, a toothy grin now apparent on her face.

“Your boss told me, he’s not very good at keeping his mouth shut”

“I’m glad he can’t because he’s right, I do have a thing for men with blue eyes and dark hair. Even more so for the man standing right in front of me now”, her eyelashes fluttered and the anger and pity from before melted away as his lips met hers.

She’d wanted to do this ever since she laid eyes on him when she started working at The Garrison but never thought he’d give her a second look. After the conversation they’d had that night she’d craved this even more, the feeling of his lips on hers, the way his hands held on tightly to her waist, the smell of cigarette smoke and whiskey on his skin. And here he was, Tommy fucking Shelby liked her. Plain old Y/N who had barely any money to her name and a dingy apartment to call home, it was like all of her Christmases came at once.

They pulled away from the kiss gently and looked into each other’s eyes. The tears once spilling from Y/N’s now gone and only a smile upon her face.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N”

“Merry Christmas, Tommy”

————————

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 @bluesongbird

[dawnsedits]

There's an Endless Road to Rediscover

Aquaman 2 spoilers ahead!

Mera and Orm were best friends, once upon a time, but she had to accept long ago that the boy she used to love had become a villain she had to defeat. It was the only way to save the world, and imprisoning him was the only way to protect Atlantis. But when life brings them together one last time, she discovers that her best friend isn't as lost she thought.

(Or: Five times Mera and Orm had history, and one time they had a future.)

Mera & Orm ~ 7.4k ~ AO3

“Clear out, guys. I have private stuff to discuss with my wife.”

Arthur’s voice stirred Mera from her nap. The guards outside of her hospital room obeyed, swimming out to take up new positions at a discreet distance as he drifted inside. He perched on the edge of her bed, gathering one of her hands into both of his, rubbing nervous circles around the back of it with his thumb. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ll be back to full strength in a day or two,” she assured him. She pushed herself more upright, waving off his attempt to stop her. “What are you up to?”

Tense at her side, he watched the last straggling guard reach his distant position. “There’s only one person who might know where to find Manta,” he said lowly, “and I’m about to go break him out.”

Orm.

Even unspoken, his name hung heavy in the water. Atlanna had spearheaded the negotiations, fighting tooth and nail to keep him in an Atlantean prison, but once it became clear that continued arguments would only spark a war – a war that neither the Brine Kingdom nor Xebel would support, leaving Atlantis alone to fight over a single man – even she had swallowed her protests and allowed them to take him. They all had, largely relegating their varying levels of guilt and grief to private conversations and locked boxes in the backs of their minds as the years swept on without him. The Fishermen would never let him go, and they were forbidden from so much as checking in on him. What more could they do, besides carry his memory with them and take care of the kingdom he had left behind?

Risk war once more to break him out, apparently.

The thought had certainly crossed her mind, not to mention Atlanna’s. She had even convinced Mera to go to her father together to request that he send spies to locate where the Fishermen had imprisoned him, a request that he did, much to their surprise, begrudgingly oblige. It had only ever been a fantasy, though. A fantasy that neither queen could make a reality, not with the fate of their kingdom at stake. No matter how much they loved the boy he had been.

“You were friends, weren’t you, when you were kids?” he asked. “You don’t talk about him much, but I think Mom mentioned that at some point.”

Mera sat on the balcony of her bedroom in the Atlantean palace, her legs swinging over the edge. Orm sat cross-legged beside her, snacking on some tuna and watching sharks and other animals swim peacefully by. “That one has a cool scar,” he said, pointing at a hammerhead with a jagged gash across its gills.

“It does.” She squinted at the shark, studying its form. “Do you want to see what I figured out how to do yesterday?”

He looked at her curiously. “Sure.”

Biting her lip, Mera held her hands a few inches apart and concentrated on the water between them, feeling every molecule. Her palms glowed blue as she twisted them together, picturing the hammerhead, and slowly, a miniature version of the shark took shape, outlined in the same glowing blue. Orm stared, his eyes huge with awe. “Whoa.”

Mera grinned. Carefully moving her hands so they were above and below the recreation instead of beside it, she started moving it in slow, small circles, its tail flicking back and forth. Its outline wavered, bubbly and unsteady, but Orm didn’t seem to notice. “Can you make a mosasaur?”

“Maybe,” Mera said. “Or I could do this.”

Closing her fist, she turned the shark into a ball and lobbed it at Orm’s face. “Hey!” he yelped, spluttering. “I’m gonna get you for that.”

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

Pushing off the balcony, she dove towards the seafloor, the levels of the palace flashing past her. Orm leaped after her, abandoning his tuna, and they raced around and through their home, scattering schools of fish and startling the servants. Their laughter rippled through the water, a joyful soundtrack to a carefree moment that she wished would never end.

“Yes,” she admitted, speaking the words aloud for the first time in… she didn’t know how long. “He was my best friend.”

That’s why it broke my heart to save you in your first battle. That’s why I tried until the very last moment to convince him to follow his mother’s teachings. That’s why I’m glad you didn’t kill him to take the throne, and why he still haunts my nightmares when I think about him in that place.

“And you still worked with Vulko to take him down.”

Arthur’s voice held no edge of accusation, no bladed question wondering how she could do such a thing, but her locked box of guilt rattled dangerously regardless. “It was the right thing to do.”

He nodded, drumming his fingers against her hand. “What was he like?” he wondered. “You know, before all of that.”

Mera closed her eyes, picturing the smiling boy who used to play soldiers and pirates with her. “He was curious,” she murmured. “He loved stories and languages, and he had his head buried in a book every chance he had. It didn’t matter if it was fiction or non-fiction.” Despite the pain of remembering, a nostalgic smile crept into her expression. “He was shy, at first, always following Atlanna around like he was her shadow, but once he let you in, he was as eager and playful as Junior. We used to call each other ‘silly.’”

“Silly?” he exclaimed. “You, I get. I mean, you use your fancy superpowers to throw Junior’s pee in my face. But him?”

“It started as a code word,” she explained. “Our way of talking about Atlanna in public after her execution, especially around his father. It evolved into a nickname as time went on, I suppose.” She frowned. “I don’t remember when we stopped using it.”

“Probably when he turned into a dick,” Arthur said. She pursed her lips. “Sorry.” He looked at her, twining their fingers together. “It must’ve been hard for you, having to turn against him.”

She firmly ignored the rattling box. “It was the right thing to do,” she repeated.

He tilted his head sympathetically, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “That doesn’t mean it was easy.”

“There must be another way,” Mera protested, pacing around their safehouse. She hated how dry the air felt, making her skin itch, scraping against her throat and lungs. She hated hiding from her father, from her best friend, from the people she had believed she could trust. She hated this.

“There is not,” Vulko said, impossibly calm amidst her constant movement. “I know how much you care for him, Mera. I care for him as well. But-”

Her heart screamed against the plan the vizier had laid out, screamed against the mental image of her best friend dying at the hands of a stranger. “Then why are we essentially plotting to kill him?”

“The boy we knew may very well have already died with his mother,” Vulko said gently. “He has fallen too far into his father’s influence since her execution – Orvax has made certain of that. The best we can do now is protect our kingdoms, even if that means one day placing Arthur on the throne that Orvax has taught Orm to never surrender. You know this, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

Mera stopped dead in her tracks, her shoulders slumping with defeat. “I know.”

“No,” Mera allowed quietly. “It wasn’t.”

He sighed. “Am I doing the right thing now? He’s in prison for a reason. If the Fishermen find out-”

“Hey.” Mera cut him off, squeezing his hand. “For all of his flaws, there is one thing about Orm that has never changed: He is loyal to Atlantis. He will do what is necessary to protect it, as will you. If breaking him out helps you do that, then it is the right thing to do.”

Arthur met her gaze, unease glittering in his eyes. “What about when I have to send him back afterwards?”

Mera shook her head helplessly. “You don’t have a choice.”

“He’s still my brother, however much I hate him,” he insisted. “He’s still your best friend. He’s still Mom’s kid. She thinks she can hide it, but we all know how much it kills her, leaving him in there. We all know what they’re doing to him. Sure, he deserves prison, but how is that the right thing?”

My best friend died with his mother.

The old mantra swam through her mind, the only thing that had eased her conscience as she plotted his downfall. It grated against her heart just as much now as it had on her first day working with Vulko, but it was as instinctive as breathing. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, Arthur. His imprisonment, however cruel, protects our people. We all know that as well. Including him.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth lifted. “You do pay attention when Mom watches Star Trek.”

Mera huffed a tiny laugh, grateful for his ability to find humor in any situation. “Sometimes.”

Relaxing, Arthur leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

She leaned into the kiss, welcoming every ounce of comfort he offered. “I love you, too.”

With renewed purpose in his strokes and one last squeeze of her hand, he hopped off her bed, heading off on his mission. She resettled as the guards returned to her side, determined to heal in case he needed her, but peace eluded her without her husband by her side. Grief and rattling boxes stalked her dreams, the sea carrying her tears away as her heart ached for the boy she used to know.

-----

He did need her, of course. Fortunately, her father was visiting her when Topo arrived with his message, and she hadn’t allowed him to leave her behind. Ignoring his protests and her lingering pain, she plunged into the wreckage of Devil’s Deep with Atlanna, racing into the chaos to rescue their husband and son. They split up when they found Arthur alone, Mera waiting outside the volcano with him while Atlanna went after Orm. She returned with him pinned to her side in a white-knuckled grip, and Mera’s breath caught in her throat, the remains of her burns twinging in empathy with his smoldering wounds. Swiping aside the debris still flying around them, tugging Arthur along with her, Mera led the way to the refuge of a nearby island.

Watching Atlanna help Orm out of the water and tend to his wounds, her well-worn mantra failed her.

Hardly conscious at first, he clung to his mother, irresistibly reminiscent of the way he used to cling to her when he was nervous at big events. Even as he regained enough strength to sit up on his own, he still seemed to huddle in her shelter, comfortable only in the safety of her arms, a comfort Atlanna was more than happy to give. She never let go of him except to get more seaweed, as attentive to him as she always had been when they were young, paying little attention to the conversation happening around them until Orm joined it. As much as their lives had changed since her sacrifice, their love for each other evidently hadn’t wavered in the slightest.

If that hadn’t changed, if his loyalty to Atlantis hadn’t changed, was it so impossible to believe that more of her best friend had survived the years than she and Vulko had assumed? Hope dared to glimmer in Mera’s heart. If my best friend died with his mother… can he be resurrected with her, too?

Her father’s words sliced through her thoughts. “Why is he even here?” he demanded. “He should be on his way back to prison.”

A wave crashed against the rocks behind him, punctuating his question, and she flinched from the spray. Why does it even matter? she asked herself. He’s going back regardless of what he does here.

“We should hear what he has to say,” Atlanna said, shifting slightly closer to Orm, her grip on his knee tightening, not quite able to hold the king’s gaze. Orm watched him out of the corner of his eye, successfully cowed by his anger, unable to defend himself.

Mera recognized those old reactions, remembering the tension that had always pulled taut between those two and Orvax, remembering the way they had always bowed to him in the end, no matter how much pride they had to swallow to do it. She hadn’t realized it then, but Atlanna had been walking the finest of lines, balancing shielding Orm from his father’s abuse with playing the subservient wife to protect her secret family, and Orm had always been caught in the middle, his mother’s child and his father’s pawn. They were performing that dance again now, the two of them against the world, just vying for a little bit more time together before more powerful forces tore them apart. Another part of their lives that hadn’t changed at all.

There’s still so much we cannot do.

“I made that mistake once,” her father retorted. “That’s why I know he can’t be trusted!”

He had a point. Orm’s silence spoke to that. Family or not, best friend or not, he had done terrible things to the surface and the undersea kingdoms alike, lying at every twist and turn and leaving a vast trail of destruction in his wake. A moment of vulnerability with his mother didn’t change that. He had upheld his end of the deal, fulfilling the service Arthur had broken him out to provide – it was time for him to return to his penance. The time he had already spent outside his cell had been a massive enough risk as it was, and every extra minute, every extra person who knew only increased the likelihood of the Fishermen discovering he had escaped.

“And he cut off my claw!” the Brine king added, waving the appendage around for emphasis. “This thing took a whole year to grow back.”

But it did grow back.

Maybe it was childish, maybe it was foolish, but didn’t he deserve a second chance? Not everything he had done was irreversible, and they were trying to forge a more forgiving Atlantis. They had all lost too much to archaic ideals and Orvax’s petty whims to follow the old ways, and Orm was trying to help. It was a second chance that could never go anywhere, but what he had done, he had done for Atlantis. He deserved this chance to protect the kingdom they loved from his own mistakes.

If that also gave Atlanna the chance to see her son again, to hold on to him for as long as she could… Mera linked her leg more securely around Arthur’s, her stomach churning at the mere thought of anyone taking Junior away from her, of knowing that he was in pain every day and never being able to ease it. I would do the same in her place. Who am I to take this chance away from them?

Her voice died in her throat, logic caving to emotion. She couldn’t say a word to support her father, and Arthur took it a step further.“Look, he wants to stop Manta, same as we do,” he broke in, looking defiantly at the two senior rulers, as if daring them to argue with the one true king. “And just for the record, the only reason we made it this far is because of him.”

Atlanna smiled beneath watery eyes at her older son, silent gratitude for the defense. Orm stared at his brother, Mera’s own surprise reflected in his eyes. No one could say that her husband was known for his tact, but for him to so boldly stand up against the two kings who had just saved his life, entangling themselves and their soldiers in a situation that could start a war in the process, and in support of the brother he hated, no less? It was a new level of daring, even for him.

No. You don’t hate him anymore, do you?

Arthur leaned forward, giving Orm his full, undivided attention. Taking his cue from his brother but still uncertain, he directed his next words only to their mother. “I saw the Lost Kingdom.”

Atlanna stared incredulously, not quite committing to a definite answer when Arthur asked her if that was possible, carefully phrasing his question to place the uncertainty on his own lack of knowledge rather than any doubt that Orm spoke the truth. Even when her father questioned him, even when Orm recounted a story no one had known for centuries, Arthur’s attention never wavered. He believed his brother. He trusted him. Enough that Orm picked up on it, gaining confidence even as he carried on explaining something impossible beneath her father’s withering stare.

Something has changed between you two.

It had been hard to miss Arthur’s concern when he told Atlanna that Orm was still trapped in the volcano, and Orm’s relief when they stumbled out of the water together, but she had chalked it up to the heat of the moment, to Arthur’s innate instinct to protect and Orm naturally being glad to be alive and reunited with his mother. Yet when Arthur decided it was time to go and stood up, he ignored the lingering wobble in his step to go to his brother, and Orm actually took the hand he offered, rising with his help as much as Atlanna’s. The heat of the moment was long gone, but the care remained.

They’re beginning to love each other, she realized, stunned. Part of her had hoped for this once, when they were young and Orm was still his old self when he was out of his father’s sight, hoped that maybe the stranger Vulko put so much faith in could learn to love him enough to save him. She had caught a glimpse of that long dead dream when Arthur spared him, but this… He’s forgiving him. Truly, genuinely forgiving him. And if Arthur can forgive him…

“Don’t get reattached.”

Her father spoke so only she could hear, joining her as the others walked away. She rose to meet him, matching his volume – though, she suspected, for entirely different reasons. “My husband trusts him,” she said, emboldened by their unity. “That is enough for me.”

“Arthur is blinded by familial connection,” her father said.

“Please,” Mera scoffed. “Two days ago, Arthur hated him more than anyone. If anyone here is blinded by familial connection, it’s you.”

He bristled, anger etched into the lines on his face. “He is not my family.”

“Yes, he is,” Mera hissed. “Don’t deny it. Not to me. I saw the look in your eyes when your spies informed us where he was being held. I remember how you loved the boy who welcomed me into his home when you and Mother left for the front lines. He was meant to be your son-in-law, and there was a time when that meant something to you. It still must, because you wouldn’t still be this furious at him if you didn’t care. You are taking this far more personally than Arthur ever has.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she swept on. “Orm has suffered for what he did, Father. He has suffered more in the last four years than most people will in a lifetime, and his only reward at the end of this is to return to that death sentence. Yet here he is, helping us however he can. If our kingdoms survive this, if your grandson still has a world to grow up in next week, then it will be in no small part due to his aid. He wants to fix the mistake he made by bringing Manta into our world. Arthur and I are not the blind ones for trying to see that good in him despite all he’s done. You are blind because you refuse to see it at all.”

His stance only hardened, his fists clenching at his side. Mera spun on her heel and marched after her family, holding her head high even as a not-so-tiny voice in the back of her mind wondered if she was placing too much faith in the man who had very nearly succeeded in killing her and Arthur.

It matters to me. It matters to me if my best friend is still beneath the armor.

-----

Her home was burning.

Mera screamed into the night, terror and agony and rage like she had never known tearing out of her throat. If she had been in the water, the ocean would’ve been roiling around her. She staggered away from the flames, away from the porch where she had sung to her son and told him about life in the ocean, closer to the shallows where she had given birth and heard his first cries. Months of memories flashed before her eyes, more precious than she had ever known was possible, and she could feel every single one of them slipping through her fingers like sand leaking out of a shattered hourglass. She was a daughter of Xebel, a queen of Atlantis, one of the most feared warriors in all the kingdoms, and she had let Manta take her son. What had been a fleeting fear on the island had suddenly become her reality.

The man willing to destroy the world just to kill her family had her baby.

“Mera.”

She screwed her eyes shut. The agony made her weak, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her, and the terror made her panic, her empty hands shaking. She couldn’t focus on those emotions. Clenching her fists, sucking in ragged breaths, she imagined tearing every drop of water and blood out of Manta’s body. She imagined making him scream as her son must have screamed when he was ripped away from his grandfather. “I’m going to kill him,” she snarled.

A hand grabbed her arm, not painfully, but far too roughly to be Arthur or Atlanna. “Mera.”

She whipped around, yanking her arm from Orm’s grip. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Where would he take Junior?

“I don’t know,” Orm said, his voice, his entire demeanor steady. Infuriatingly steady. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” she repeated, fury teetering dangerously on hysteria. “That man took my son. Do you know what I’m feeling right now?”

“No.” His voice dipped. “I don’t.”

“Of course not,” Mera snapped. “If you did, you wouldn’t ask-”

“Yes, I would,” Orm interrupted, “because I do not care what you’re feeling. You need to keep your wits about you.” He paused, glancing at the trio on the ground, Atlanna trying to soothe Arthur and care for Tom at the same time. “I don’t know much about family, but I do know that Junior will need you alive at the end of this.”

Her breath hitched, anger cracking in the face of a hope she hardly dared to consider. “You think…”

“I do.”

He almost sounds… gentle again.

Almost. There was a roughness to it, an edge he might not know how to shake after so many years following in his father’s harsh footsteps, but… it almost sounded familiar. It almost sounded like…

Hesitantly, he laid his fingertips on her arm, a featherlight touch that was suddenly her only anchor in the smoky night. “You will get him back, Mera. And when you do… a child needs their mother.”

The words plunged her back through the years. Back to her early days in the Atlantean palace, when Atlanna first took her under her wing and Orm had been her only friend in the kingdom. To when her father broke the news that her mother had been killed in battle and Orm was the first person she swam to for comfort. To when Orvax sacrificed Atlanna and their roles reversed in an instant, with Mera being the only person in the world that he could be open with about grieving for the mother everyone else called a traitor. Back to all the broken years after that, Orvax’s influence poisoning the sweet and silly boy she loved, until Mera had no choice but to turn against the villain he became.

“You cannot be reckless,” Orm said quietly. “You need to calm down.”

Not a day went by when she didn’t miss her mother, when she didn’t lament the lifetime of victories and milestones she had never seen. Atlanna’s execution had cut her like a trident to the heart, too, alongside turning Arthur against Atlantis and destroying Orm in every way imaginable. Arthur and their family would never let Junior face what he and Orm had gone through, but… No. I cannot let him grow up grieving. Not like we did. I need to survive this, too.

Slowly, in stuttering movements, she forced her fists to open. The anger began to dissipate. In its place, the terror and agony flooded in, her knees weakening and her hands shaking again, longing to hold her son. Tears welled in her eyes, stinging far more than the smoke and heat, and she grabbed the closest support she could find.

She grabbed Orm’s hand.

He twitched in her grip, startled. Inwardly, she cringed, realizing what she had just done. But she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t make herself let go. Desperate for any shred of comfort, aching for the days when Orm had always been the one to give it to her, she only clutched his hand harder. He dropped his gaze to the contact, and for a moment she feared he would pull away, that he would let go and abandon her amidst the wreckage.

He didn’t.

He held her gingerly, but he did hold her. He left their hands hanging in the air between them, letting her hold on for as long as she needed. Letting her hold on until her father arrived and she could fall into his arms, their fingers catching as she let go, almost reluctant to make the trade. It was more than she had thought she could ever ask for again. For now… it was enough.

She looked back at him, hovering near his family, consulting with the medics while Arthur and Atlanna held Tom. Maybe my best friend is still here.

-----

Mera gathered Junior into her arms, choking down a sob, his tiny coos the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. I will never let go of you again. She backed up to Arthur and Shin, twisting to shield him from Manta, glaring at the villain as he took his broken helmet off. Arthur touched her back, nudging her towards the door. “Go,” he ordered.

In any other battle, Mera would’ve resisted. She would’ve stayed to fight beside her husband, taking her vengeance, defending the kingdom they had both sworn to protect. Today, though, she didn’t hesitate to obey. Orm had been right – killing him didn’t matter. Only her son did. With Junior against her chest and Shin running ahead of her, she bolted for the exit, listening to the sounds of a scuffle behind her. Running footsteps. Arthur grunting. Bodies hitting the ground.

A trident hurtling through the air.

She whirled around, hair flying. Her eyes widened. It hurtled straight at her, deadly points aimed true at her head, already too close. She couldn’t dodge. She couldn’t summon a wave of water and ice to strike it aside. She could only watch it come, leaning back in a last-ditch effort to keep it from hitting Junior.

A shadow raced into the room, skidding to a halt beside her. The loud clang of metal on metal shuddered through her. The trident stopped dead in its tracks, inches from her face. Her eyes slipped to the side, landing on her savior.

Her gaze landed on Orm.

She had given him a chance. A chance to redeem himself, to fight for what was right, to simply see his mother again and get to know his brother before surrendering himself to his death sentence. She had given him a chance, and now, with his outstretched fist clutching the trident, he was repaying the favor. He was giving her the chance to live, to see her son grow up, to live the happy life he would never know.

He was protecting Junior from the heartbreak that had darkened her childhood and ruined his life.

“Mera,” he rasped. The trident lit up, that ominous green glow spreading out from his fist, reaching towards her and Junior. His entire body beginning to shake, his face twisting in pain and fear, Orm forced out a single word. “Run.”

Please don’t let this be the end.

She wanted to thank him. She wanted to stay with him. She didn’t want to leave him to fight this without her, like she had so many times when she had let the Fishermen take him, when she had schemed with Vulko, when she had gone home to Xebel and her father’s arms and left Orm alone with a tyrant who never loved him. She was an adult now, a queen with all the power they had never had as children, and she still wanted to do a million things they didn’t have time for, and a million more that the baby in her arms made impossible.

All she could do was take the chance and flee, an explosion of magic and her best friend’s screams following her out of the room.

-----

“They’re safe,” Mera whispered to Junior as Storm rocketed out of the churning water, Arthur and Orm on his back. “They’re…” She trailed off, swallowing. “Your dad is safe.”

As is your uncle.

The seahorse bucked as he arced downwards, propelling them towards the iceberg her father had dropped her and Shin on. Arthur didn’t miss a beat, kissing her exuberantly and bending to check on Junior, but Orm landed clumsily, panting, exhausted from whatever had transpired after she fled, from the wounds she knew all too well hadn’t yet fully healed. Aside from returning the trident her father had lost in the battle, the two of them exchanging a significant look as he handed it over, he hung back, separating himself from the reunions.

For now.

She thanked Shin with a kiss on the cheek and smiled at the Brine king and her father’s banter, but her thoughts stayed with Orm. Arthur stepped away from her, joining his brother, and Orm only greeted him with a nod, resigned acceptance in the set of his jaw. Mera busied herself with Junior, dreading the inevitable. Dreading Arthur confirming that there was no more stalling, that her brief reunion with her best friend was over, and she would never see him again.

“As far as I’m concerned, your debt is paid.”

What?

Arthur’s words drew everyone’s attention like a magnet. Mera’s head snapped up. Her father gripped his freshly returned trident tightly, bracing himself. The Brine king stopped complaining about his claw, and Shin shifted, unaware of the stakes but sensing that something significant was happening. Orm’s eyes widened, resignation transforming into disbelief, into something that couldn’t quite be called hope. “Not everybody’s gonna see it that way, though.”

You’re actually-

She cut herself off, waiting with bated breath as Arthur glanced at her father. He looked around, catching her eye. Please, she urged with a pleading gaze. See the good in him. It’s still there. He’s still there.

Looking back at Arthur, he said nothing, simply not objecting to his silent question. It was enough. Shoulders loosening, Arthur continued, “It’s too bad you went and got yourself killed back there.”

We are. I love you, Arthur Curry.

Before anyone could change their minds, Mera jumped in to back him up, to offer Orm a new chance that could go somewhere. “Yes,” she added, nodding at the endless expanse of ocean and shattered ice surrounding them. “With all this ice…” A grin broke across her face – the same grin she had once given him every time she had an idea that would get them into trouble. “It would be impossible to find the body.”

Orm stared back and forth between them, stunned, baffled, struggling to process what they were saying as Arthur told him to lay low and stay close. She couldn’t blame him – even she could hardly believe it. After so many years of trading Orm’s life for Atlantis’s security, Arthur had finally found a solution that protected both. Nothing quite made it sink in until her father nodded at Orm, confirming that he would go along with the lie, a hint of his old fondness softening his features. “Thank you,” he said, his tension easing, “brother.”

Arthur offered his hand, and as Orm took it, Mera looked at her son. You will get to know your uncle after all.

A weight lifted off of Mera’s shoulders. A weight she had grown so used to carrying that the guilt had become part of her, a weight that had crushed a part of her soul that she had kept locked away until now, when she could straighten up and look forward to a bright future with her whole family. Her best friend was back – scarred and changed, yes, but back, rescued from the ashes of his father’s destruction by his mother’s love and his brother’s forgiveness. He had fought for them, comforted her, and saved her and the little boy she loved more than anything. It was all the proof she had ever needed, and he wasn’t going to die alone in prison.

But his return came with a goodbye.

“Wait.”

He paused before he could jump off the iceberg, turning back to her, and now there was true hope in his eyes. She closed the distance between them, snow crunching beneath her feet, and stretched up to kiss his cheek, too. The last time I did that, you were still shorter than me. “Thank you.”

Junior babbled a happy agreement, and for the first time in their lives, Orm smiled at his nephew. “It was the least I could do.” Sobering, he met her gaze. “I’m sorry, Mera. For everything.”

The apology bled with history, with the regret of a lifetime of wrongs and agonizing choices that had driven them apart, but Mera only cared about the genuine step forward he was taking. “I know,” she said, more relieved than she could ever put into words to take the step with him. “Me, too.”

Shoulders slumping slightly, he let himself lean against her, just as he had before he learned how to hide his exhaustion at long formal events. Mera dug her heel into the ice, sharing his weight gladly, embracing the return of the trust she had lost long ago. “You know more about family than you think,” she murmured. “Don’t forget that again, silly.”

Unused for so long, the old nickname simultaneously caught in her throat and rolled off her tongue, strange and familiar all at once. He smiled at it, a tiny, nostalgic upturn of his lips. “I won’t,” he promised.

They lingered for a moment more, savoring the ability to be together again, with no more lies and bitterness dividing them. The locked box she had harbored for so long melted away in the comfort of his presence, a memory to be left in the past, unnecessary in the light of a path forward. “Go on, then,” she said eventually, finding the strength to let him go in the knowledge that they would reunite again soon. “Be safe.”

Devoid of the chill of the false politeness they had used as armor for years, the words warmed the air around them, and she pressed a little harder against his arm when he returned the sentiment just as sincerely. “You, too.”

Pushing off her shoulder, he turned and leaped into the ocean. Mentally, Mera started running through cover stories, mapping out when they could begin pushing the Fishermen for an updated treaty. Arthur stepped up to her side, wrapping his arm around her, and together they watched his brother disappear into the waves, swimming towards his freedom. Swimming, she assumed, to once again find safety in their mother’s arms.

This time, no one will tear us apart, she vowed. I won’t let them.

-----

Mera landed lightly on the end of the dock, spring sunshine warm on her skin. Tucking the tablet she had brought under her arm, she strode towards the lighthouse, searching for one landbound family member in particular. Following the sound of his voice, she found him sitting in his chair on the porch with Junior, uncle and nephew equally content as he read Pinocchio with more awkward versions of the ridiculous voices Arthur used, Nemo curled up at his feet. Mera couldn’t help but pause, enjoying the precious sight that had become commonplace, yet never seemed to lose its novelty.

Nemo interrupted the moment, pricking his ears and trotting over to her with a happy bark. Orm broke off when he caught her looking. “Look who’s here, Junior,” he said, closing the book while Mera scratched Nemo’s back.

Junior’s disappointment vanished the second he saw her. “Mama!” he exclaimed, reaching for her eagerly.

Beaming, Mera joined them in the shade, trading the tablet for her son. “Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted, kissing his forehead. Even all these months after his kidnapping, holding him felt like a miracle, his weight a comfort in her arms. “Were you having fun with Uncle Orm?”

He answered with an enthusiastic string of noises that she took as a yes. “That’s g- Wait.” Amongst the adorable nonsense, she swore she caught a word. “Did he say Ormy?”

“Unfortunately,” Orm muttered. Nemo pressed against his legs, wagging his tail. “I’m going to kill Arthur.”

The front door opened as she laughed. “Mera!” Tom said, sweeping her into a hug. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“We finished early. A first in diplomatic negotiations with the Fishermen,” she said wryly. Tom chuckled. Orm stiffened, glancing from her to the tablet. “We didn’t want to all rush off as if we had somewhere to be, so Arthur and Atlanna stayed behind for the celebrations. I got to come share the news.”

“Ah,” Tom said. “In that case, why don’t we give the two of you some privacy?”

Kissing him again, promising to see him soon, Mera passed Junior to his grandfather. As they stepped inside, Nemo following on Tom’s heels, she took a seat on the end of the couch beside Orm. “Atlanna sends her love.”

“She always does,” he said fondly, though his attention was clearly elsewhere. He handed the tablet back. “An early ending seems like a good sign.”

“It is,” she said. Fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, he leaned forward, watching her power up the tablet and open the notes she had taken. Tilting it so he could see, she scrolled to the section that concerned him. “As soon as the new treaty goes into effect, peace between Atlantis and the Fishermen Kingdom no longer hinges upon your imprisonment.”

She let him take the tablet, holding it delicately, as if the slightest wrong move would erase the words on the screen, destroying everything they promised. He read them again and again, seconds stretching into minutes as he took it in. Mera waited patiently – they had time. When he finally spoke again, his voice cracked with emotion, with joy and anxiety and everything in between. “I can go home.”

“Not yet,” Mera cautioned. “They were furious that Arthur broke you out to participate in the battle, and it took a great deal of care to remove this without raising further suspicion, since we brought no proof of your death. We still have to be careful that your return doesn’t make it appear as if we’ve been harboring you since the battle.” Unwilling to leave it on a pessimistic note, she finished, “It won’t be long, though, with this signed.”

Orm set the tablet down, his eyes drifting to the ocean, aching for the tantalizing freedom still just out of reach. Mera laid her hand over his. “Atlantis isn’t your only home anymore,” she reminded him.

He took her hand, holding tight. “I know,” he murmured. “I still miss it.”

“It hasn’t been the same without you,” she said, meaning every word. She had been looking at all of their old haunts and hiding spots with new eyes lately, looking forward to when he could fill the empty spaces with her again, to when he could help her tell their stories to their family and show Junior all the best parts of growing up in the palace. “I can’t wait to see the look on the Fishermen queen’s face when you come back.”

His laugh didn’t reach his eyes. “I understand why she did it. I certainly sent people there for less.”

“We all understand why she did it,” Mera said, running her thumb over his knuckles. “That doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

“I did,” he whispered, leaving his mouth open as if he meant to continue, but no words came out.

“No, you didn’t,” she said firmly in his silence. “And even if you had, you’ve more than atoned for your mistakes since then. You deserve to go home.”

He drew in his legs, massaging the knee that had never quite healed after his years of torture. She didn’t press him further, letting her touch speak for itself. Finally, he asked, “What if the people don’t accept my return?”

“I don’t care.” She cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze to hers. “You are family, and you belong with us, whether we’re here or in Atlantis. We will bring you home, and if anyone has a problem with that, we will fight for you. All right? We haven’t come this far to give up now. We love you, Orm. I love you. Your homecoming may not be an easy path, but it is a path I will make sure you can walk.”

He weighed the speech, searching for the “but,” for yet another one of the caveats that had shadowed his entire life. “All right,” he said at long last, tilting into her touch without protest, accepting the reassurance. “Thank you.”

“It’s what best friends do,” she said. It’s what I waited too many years to do. Nudging his good knee with her own to take any bite out of her words, she added playfully, “Don’t make me regret it.”

He gave her a small smile. “I don’t know. If Arthur makes me sit in on any debates between your father and the Brine king…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “There’s always a good prank to play on him when he inevitably falls asleep. It’s far more entertaining than it used to be. Besides,” she continued mischievously, “I suspect he’ll hardly have a chance to rope you into anything before you come back up here to see Stephen the first chance you get.”

He shook her off, tugging his hand away, clearing his throat as his cheeks reddened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t,” she teased. “That’s why you’re looking at anything but me. Tell me, how many times has he texted you today?”

The door swung open again, Tom reemerging holding a case of beer as well as Junior. “So,” he said, “are we drowning our sorrows or celebrating?”

Visibly grateful for the interruption, Orm took the beer from him, focusing far too intently on freeing three bottles. “Celebrating.”

Tom grinned softly, giving Junior to Mera and taking the bottles that Orm handed him, giving her the other once she had Junior settled. “That’s great news, son.” Popping the cap off and sitting on Mera’s other side, he held it out. “To the future.”

Relaxing in a way he never had around his first father, Orm clinked their bottles together. Mera added hers to her in-laws’ toast, the sound pleasant and promising above the gentle crashing of the waves against the shore. As much as she had appreciated keeping secrets for Orm instead of from him, protecting him instead of betraying him, she was more than ready for this era of their lives to end once and for all. Soon, her months of leading the negotiations would come to fruition, and nothing would stand between him and being a fully-fledged member of the family both above and below the surface. They would both, at long last, have everything they had ever dreamed of and more – perhaps not in ways they had ever envisioned, but they would have it together.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

“To the future,” they echoed.

[sixgunluvr]

Wild Passion

Mature Age 18+ Readers ONLY

Pairing Arthur with a female reader.

Everything about him makes you feel alive - the way his muscles flex under his tanned skin, the stubble on his jawline that scratches your cheek when he kisses you, the roughness of his fingers as they trace a path down your body.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as he cups your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple. You moan softly, arching your back to press yourself closer to him. He takes advantage of the opportunity to slide his hand down further, tracing the curve of your waist before slipping it between your legs.

You're already wet, and he groans with satisfaction as he feels how slick you are for him.

"Damn, girl," he growls, his voice low and husky. "You're so wet for me already. I love how you're always ready for me."

His fingers begin to explore, parting your folds and circling your clit. You gasp at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily as he continues to touch you. It feels so good, so right, to have him touching you like this.

His eyes are wild with desire as he looks down at you, and you can feel the heat emanating from his muscular body.

"You want me, don't you?" he growls, his voice dripping with raw need.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I want you so bad, Arthur." You moan as his fingers continue to work their magic on your slick pussy, feeling yourself growing more and more aroused by the second.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he nips and sucks at your sensitive skin. "Being away from you for a week has been pure hell."

"I know," you gasp, your fingers tugging at his hair as his mouth moves down to your breasts.

He sucks one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before biting down gently. You cry out in pleasure, feeling your wetness increase as he continues to tease you. "You're so fucking wet for me, baby," he growls, his hand never stopping its expert ministrations between your legs. 

His words make you feel filthy and desired in the best possible way, and you can't help but moan in response.

"Did you touch yourself while I was gone?" He asks in a low husky voice.  "I want to hear every dirty detail."

His words make your heart race and you feel a flush creeping up your neck, spreading down over your chest and stomach. You nod your head, unable to form coherent words at the moment.

He smirks at your reaction before continuing his exploration of your body. His fingers slide through your wetness, gathering it up before circling it around your clit. The sensation of his rough fingers on your most sensitive part make you whimper in pleasure.

" Yeah, baby?

Did you touch yourself thinking of me?" His voice was low, dripping with sinful desire. "Did you imagine it was my fingers playing with you?"

You nod your head again, biting your lower lip as you feel yourself growing even more aroused by his dirty talk.

His fingers continue to circle and tease your clit, and you can feel the tension building inside of you. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," you beg, arching your hips up to meet each stroke.

"Did you imagine my cock buried deep in you?" His voice is raw and seductive, and you nod your head in response, biting down on your lower lip. "Say it."

"I imagined your cock in me," you whisper, feeling a shiver of pleasure run down your spine at the words.

"Louder."

"I imagined your cock buried deep inside me," you repeat, louder this time. You can feel yourself growing more and more aroused by the second, your wetness coating Arthur's fingers as he continues to tease you.

Your hips thrust up to meet each stroke, seeking the friction you crave.

"I want to hear you scream my name," Arthur growls, his voice low and husky. "I want to hear you come apart beneath me."

He increases the pressure on your clit, flicking it back and forth in a way that has you seeing stars. You gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets as the tension inside you builds to a fever pitch.

"Oh God, I'm so close," you moan, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"I know you are darlin'" Arthur grunts, his fingers still working their magic on your clit. "Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel your pussy clench my fingers."

His words send you tumbling over the edge, your orgasm rips through your body like a wildfire. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy rocks your body.

You can feel yourself gushing around his fingers, your orgasm so intense it is almost too much to bear.

Arthur grunts in satisfaction as he feels you milking his fingers, his own pleasure mounting as he watches you come apart beneath him.

He slows his ministrations on your clit as your orgasm begins to ebb, slipping two fingers inside you and curling them up to brush against your G-spot.

"Oh God," you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he begins to gently thrust his fingers in and out of you.

You look towards him and you can see his erection bulging through his jeans, and he reaches down to work it up and down.

The wet spot where his pre-cum has seeped through was growing larger with each stroke. While still working his fingers in your pussy he unbuttons his jeans, releasing his hard length from its denim prison.

The cool air of the tent sends shivers down his spine as he wraps his hand around his shaft, squeezing tightly before beginning to pump up and down. His eyes are locked on yours, a challenge in their depths that you eagerly accept.

As good as his fingers feel, you push yourself up, forcing him to withdrawal his fingers, onto your hands and knees, crawling over towards him with a wicked gleam in your eye.

"My turn to play, cowboy."

He grunts in approval as you wrap your hand around his hard cock, feeling the pre-cum already slicking its tip. You lean down and run your tongue along his length, teasing him with every swirl and lick.

"Fuck," he gritted out, hips lifting off the bed as he bucks against your face.

You let out a wicked laugh, opening your mouth wide and taking him deep inside.

He groans in pleasure as you suck and lick every inch of his shaft. Your head moves back and forth, taking him deeper each time until he hits the back of your throat. He grips the sheets tightly, trying to hold back his release.

"Fuck yeah," he groans, watching your lips wrapping around his cock.

You reach up with one hand, cupping his balls and massaging them gently as you continue to blow him. He growls in approval, his hips thrusting upwards to meet your mouth.

You take him deeper, feeling his length slide down your throat. His grip tightens on the sheets as he fights to hold back.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come," he grunts, but you don't stop. Instead, you suck harder, hollowing out your cheeks and devouring every inch of his shaft.

Suddenly, his grip on the sheets tightens, and he cries out in pleasure. Hot ropes of cum shoot down the back of your throat as he comes hard.

You swallow every drop, savoring the salty taste of him on your tongue. Your pussy throbs with desire as you lick him clean, you sit back on your heels, a satisfied smile on your face.

Arthur's cock is still semi-hard, and you can tell he is ready for more.

"You know, I've been thinking," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I want to hear you scream my name while I'm fucking you from behind."

The thought of him taking you like that sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You nod your head, biting your lower lip in anticipation.

"You're going to love it, I promise," he says, his voice dripping with sinful desire. He reaches for you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you deeply.

You moan into the kiss, your tongue tangling with his as you surrender yourself to him. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss.

Your hands roam over his muscular chest, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt. You can't wait to feel him pressed against you, skin to skin.

You tear off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest. Your hands roam over his body, feeling every hard ridge and plane. He groans in pleasure as you touch him, his fingers tracing a path down your back.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he growls, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

His hands move lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. You can feel his hardness pressing against you, and you gasp at the contact.

"I need you," you moan, grinding your hips against him.

"I need to feel you inside of me."

He groans in response, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you even closer.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he growls, his lips trailing down your neck. "I can't wait to be inside of you."

He moves one hand between your legs, his fingers slipping through your wetness and teasing your clit. You moan in pleasure, your hips thrusting upwards to meet his touch.

"Please," you beg, writhing against him.

"I need you inside of me now."

With a growl, he flips you over onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. He runs his hand down your spine, feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Fuck, you're so sexy like this," he whispers, his voice low and rough with desire.

He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit again and teasing it expertly. Your breath hitches in your throat as he touches you, the pleasure already building inside of you.

You thrust your hips back, seeking more contact.

"You're so fucking wet," he growls, his fingers circling your clit and teasing it. "I love how ready you are for me."

"I'm always ready for you," you moan in response, arching your back as he continues to touch you. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but you don't want him to stop.

"Please, Arthur," you beg, rubbing your hips against his hand.

"I love when you beg for it," he groans.

With a growl, he positions his hard shaft at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock.

Sliding it between your slick folds, he is driving you mad with need.

"Please, Arthur, I can't wait any longer," you gasp, your hips thrusting back in desperation.

"Tell me your mine," he demands, his voice rough and low.

"I'm yours, Arthur, always and forever," you moan, your head drooping forward in pleasure.

He slides his cock inside of you in one smooth motion, filling you up completely. You gasp at the sensation of him stretching you, your body welcoming him with a shiver of desire.

"Fuck, baby," he growls, his fingers digging into your hips as he begins to thrust in and out of you.

"So nice," he groans, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You moan in pleasure, your fingers gripping the sheets as he continues to drive you closer to the edge.

"You like that, don't you?" he growls, his hips slapping against your ass as he fucks you harder and faster.

You can only whimper in response, your orgasm building inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt.

"Say my name, baby," he demands, his voice rough and low.

"Arthur, fuck me Arthur!" you cry out, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come apart beneath him.

He groans in pleasure, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Your body trembles and shakes, your wetness coating his cock as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

"Fuck, Arthur, you're going to make me cum again," you moan as he reaches around to rub your clit.

He grunts in response, his hips pistoning faster and harder. You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, his balls drawing up against your ass.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You let out a whimper, another orgasm already building inside of you.

"Please, don't stop," you beg, your hips meeting each thrust with one of your own.

He growls in response, his hips slapping against your ass as he fucks you harder and faster.

The tent is filled with the sounds of pleasure, the air thick with desire.

"Fuck, baby, I'm going to come," he gritted out, his thrusts growing erratic as he approaches his release.

You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, stretching your pussy and making you sigh with pleasure.

"Yes, cum for me, Arthur," you moan, your hips rocking back to meet his every thrust.

He growls in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he drives himself deeper and deeper inside of you.

You can feel him pulsing against your walls, his hot release filling you up and spilling out of your pussy.

He groans as his orgasm rips through his body, his hips bucking against yours as he empties himself inside of you.

You collapse beneath him, your breath coming in short gasps as you try to catch your breath. Your body is still trembling with aftershocks, your wetness coating both him and the sheets beneath you.

He rolls off of you, collapsing onto his back beside you with a satisfied sigh. His chest is heaving, sweat glistening on his muscular torso as he looks over at you with a soft smile.

You can't help but return it, feeling more content than you have in weeks.

"That was amazing," he whispers, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

You nod in agreement, still unable to form coherent words. Your entire body feels boneless, like you are floating on a cloud of pure ecstasy.

He leans in to kiss you again, this one slow and gentle. It was a stark contrast to the rough, animalistic way he had just taken you, but it was just as mind-blowing.

He kisses you slowly, tenderly, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His fingers tracing patterns on your back.

You can feel him smiling against your lips, a small satisfied sound rumbling deep in his chest. Your bodies are still slick with sweat from exertion and the heat between you two has raised the temperature in the tent by several degrees.

You shift, arching your back as you moan breathily into his mouth. He takes this as an invitation to roll you over, pinning you gently against the bed without breaking contact with your lips.

The kiss is slow and passionate, each of you tasting and touching with deliberate slowness, wanting to feel every inch of each other after a week apart.

He trails his lips down your neck, making you shiver with delight as he gently nibbles on your collarbone.

"God, I've missed you," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

"I've missed you too," you whisper, your hands roaming over his muscular back as he continues to explore your body with his mouth.

He works his way down to your breasts, taking one tight peak into his mouth and sucking it greedily.

"Fuck, I've missed these perfect tits," he growls, switching to the other one and giving it the same treatment.

Your nipples are already hard as diamonds, and you can feel them tightening even more under his expert attention.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts into his face as you moan in pleasure. 

"Damn, I just can't get enough of you," he growls , his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it hard. He works his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply and making you forget your own name.

You can feel the heat building between your thighs again, and you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your hips against his hardness.

"Fuck me again," you whisper into his ear, biting down gently on his earlobe.

He groans in response, nipping at your neck as he shifts his weight onto you.

"Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," he mutters, his breath hot against your skin.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh as he grounds his hips against yours. His hand is working between your legs, teasing your clit with each stroke.

"I want you again," you whisper, your voice barely audible as he nips at your ear and sends a shiver down your spine.

"Say it louder," he demands, his voice low and gravelly.

"I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, Arthur," you moan, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you inside of me again. Bury your cock in me."

He groans in response, his fingers still teasing your clit and making you squirm beneath him. 

"You want this?" he asks, his voice dripping with sinful desire, grinding his cock into your thigh.

"Yes, please," you beg, your hips bucking up to meet his. "I want you to fuck me until I can't take it anymore."

With a growl, he positions himself at your entrance, sliding inside of you in one smooth motion. You cry out in pleasure as he fills you up completely, each thrust hits that spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl.

He sets a rapid pace, fucking you with wild abandon. Your bodies slap together, the sound echoing in the tent.

You snake your hand down to play with your clit.  The pleasure of his cock filling you up and your fingers on your clit is driving you wild.

"That's it, girl. Play with your clit while I fuck you," he  growls, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

You cry out in pleasure as he hits that spot deep inside of you, your fingers working furiously on your clit. Your orgasm is building fast, coiling in your belly like a snake ready to strike.

"Yes, yes, just like that," he grunts, his hips pistoning faster as his cock swells inside of you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the tent, mingling with your gasps and moans. It is pure filth, and you revel in it.

You crave his roughness, the way he takes control and makes you feel like a wanton, insatiable woman. 

"Fuck, you're tight," he growls, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?

When I treat you like the dirty little whore that you are?" His voice is low and seductive, and you can't help but moan in response.

"Oh God, yes," you gasp, feeling your orgasm cresting inside of you like a tidal wave about to break.

"Yeah, you're my dirty little whore though aren't you?" he growls, his thrusts never faltering.

You can only whimper in response, the filthy talk pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You are already so close, your body trembling with the effort of holding back your orgasm.

But with his words, you let go, a scream tearing free from your throat as you come hard around his cock. He groans in pleasure as he feels you milking him, his own orgasm crashing into him like a tidal wave.

He pumps his hips faster, driving himself deeper into your tight, wet heat as he empties himself inside of you.

Your orgasm seems to go on and on, your body trembling and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. It is intense, unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

Finally, the shudders subside, leaving you breathless and sated. He collapses onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

"Holy fuck," he mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That was…

fucking incredible," he finishes, rolling onto his side to face you.

You grin, feeling more satisfied than you have in a long time. Your entire body is tingling with pleasure, and you can't remember the last time you have felt so content.

Each time with Arthur is better than the last.

"I told you," you whisper, snuggling closer to him and resting your head on his chest. "There's no one else I want to be with but you."

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. The scent of sweat and sex cling to both of you, but neither of you care. It is a reminder of the passion you have shared, and you revel in it.

The two of you lay there, wrapped up in each other's arms, the sounds of the night slowly seeping into the tent. You can hear crickets chirping and coyotes howling in the distance, the smell of grass and wildflowers scenting the air. It is a reminder of the harsh, unforgiving world outside, but inside the tent, it feels like you and Arthur are the only two people who exist.

As the night wears on, you find yourself lost in his embrace, feeling safe and protected in his arms.  Your breathing evens out, and soon you can hear the deep and steady rhythm of his snores. A soft smile graces your lips as you drift off to sleep, relishing in the feeling of being with him again.

[verai-marcel]

Powerplay (RDR2 one-shot, Arthur x F!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Author notes: So it's been a while. If you're new here, this takes place in the Corrections series, a modern AU where Arthur Morgan is a former prisoner turned construction worker, and you, dear reader, are a prison guard. Got lots of D/s and smutty smut smut for your reading pleasure. Anyway, this little drabble was because I was challenged by @shootybangbang @twola @redwritr and @readingcoco (I'll smother you all in your sleep some day)

Tags: powerfuck play (yes, I know this isn't a common term, but this was the challenge term that was set forth), D/s, modern au, consensual dubcon/roleplay (light), some name calling, CMNF

AO3 link is here, kitten.

Word count: 1,148

---------------------------

"You sure you want this, darlin'?"

You nodded. Of course you did, you had begged, pleaded, bribed him for it.

Arthur blew out a breath. "Alright, but you tell me 'cherries' if you want me to stop."

"I doubt I'll need my safeword, but I promise I'll tell you if it's too much."

He gave you an incredulous look.

"This is about trust, isn't it?" You touched his arm. "Trust me, just as I trust you."

He finally caved. "Fine."

***

You were laid out on your four-post bed, spread eagle, each of your limbs restrained to its own post. The heat coming from the air vent felt good against your bare skin, and you closed your eyes and just relaxed.

And then Arthur came in, clothed in a prison guard uniform (you had snuck one out of your workplace). It looked good on him, the fabric stretching over his thick frame, his biceps bulging at the shirt cuffs, his package not very well hidden by the canvas pants.

"Looks like someone don't know how to behave," he drawled, sauntering over to the foot of the bed. He stared down at you, his eyes raking over your nude form as if he were assessing stolen goods. "I told you what the punishment was if you didn't listen, didn't I?"

You swallowed. "Y-yes sir."

"And what was that?"

"You'd use me until you were satisfied."

He nodded. "Ayup. And it takes a lot to satisfy me." Crawling onto the bed, he wrapped his big hand around your neck. His other hand lightly slapped your breast. "Yer goin' to take it all, and yer goin' to like it. Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

You nodded.

"Good girl." Releasing you, he knelt between your legs and undid his belt, pulling it from the belt loops slowly, maintaining intense eye contact. Tossing the belt aside, he reached down and ran his fingers along your opening, his fingers coming away with an embarrassing amount of your wetness.

"Dirty li'l thing," he rumbled. "So wet from just this? Like yer beggin' to be used." Slipping one finger inside of you, he used his thumb to brush against your clit while he played with your entrance.

You writhed in your bounds. "S-sir, please, use me!"

"Oh, I'm usin' you, alright. You don't get to tell me what to do." He shoved a second finger inside of you and rubbed you harder. "You'll do exactly as I command."

You only whimpered in submission.

"That's it, show me your helpless face, yes, that's it, good girl."

You felt that coil of pleasure tighten and tighten, until he grabbed your breast and squeezed it, flicking a nipple with his thumb. Arthur knew your weaknesses, and you screamed, your hips bucking as you milked his fingers for all you were worth. His thumb pressed down on your clit, and you could feel your pulse thunder in your ears as the pleasure rode you hard, leaving you breathless.

As you relaxed into the mattress, feeling blissfully like a puddle of jelly, Arthur sat up, rising onto his knees. His cock was outlined on his pants, and you could tell that he was raging hard and ready to take his pleasure. Seeing where your gaze was directed, he touched himself.

"You want this, naughty girl?"

"Yes, please, please!"

He chuckled. "It's like you were bad on purpose."

You looked away. "No..."

Grasping your chin, he forced you to look back up at him. "You lyin'?"

"N-no..."

He lightly slapped your breast. "I don't believe you. But I'll make you confess."

Letting you go, he pulled back and unhurriedly unzipped his fly. Your mouth went dry with anticipation as he freed his thick cock from his pants and held in his hand, stroking himself tantalizingly slow.

You spread your legs wider.

Arthur slapped the inside of your thigh. "Li'l slut," he murmured as he dragged the tip of his shaft along your slit. Up and down, over and over as he stared at you, an arrogant sneer on his lips. "Promise me you'll be a good girl for me."

"I promise, I promise I'll be the best girl for you, I'll be so good for you, please!"

Grinning like a wolf, he gripped your hips and slammed into you.

You screamed, the burn mixed with the heady pleasure of being so filled up by him making you lose your mind. Your hips lifted to meet his as he began to rock into you, his pace steady and masterful, keeping you in check despite your efforts to speed him up.

"You my fuck toy?"

"Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir!"

He chuckled. "I'm goin' to release yer ankles. You wrap them pretty legs around me and hang on, you hear?"

"Yes sir," you gasped, admiring the fact that through all of this, he was still fucking you hard, barely losing his breath.

He reached down and undid the restraints at your ankles.

Once you gave into being just a doll for him to fuck, you lay back and let him use you, wrapping your legs around his waist and going along for the ride. Arthur picked up on your submission and fell upon you, his muscular body crushing you into the bed. His hips rose and fell at an ever faster pace, powerfucking you with wild abandon.

He could not speak, only animalistic grunts and moans as he gave into his feral lust. You were also at a loss for words, unable to do anything other than hold on for dear life. You knew your hips would be bruised and sore in the morning, but you didn't care. Right now, all you cared about was the exquisite rapture of being fucked into subspace by your beloved.

Somewhere along the way, you felt Arthur tense up. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him on.

You didn't think Arthur could pound you any harder, or faster, but somehow he did, nearly crushing you with his mindless need to fuck the hell out of you. He let out an impassioned moan as he released himself inside you, his hips jerking erratically.

"Fuck, yer so fuckin' perfect," he slurred, laying sloppy kisses on your cheek and lips. "I would fuck you all day if I could."

You giggled, breaking character. "I would let you too, if my body could handle it."

"Oh god." He immediately lifted himself off of you. "Are you alright, darlin'?"

You grabbed him and pulled him back on top of you, like pulling up a warm blanket. "Yes, yes, I'll be fine. Just let me enjoy my Arthur-quilt for a little longer."

You felt his smile against your cheek, his stubble scraping lightly at your skin. "Yer so sweet. I love you."

You hummed in agreement and slowly fell asleep, fully at peace with Arthur inside of you, on top of you, all around you.

-------------------

End Notes: Hah, I thought I'd never come back to this AU, but here we are. Hope y'all enjoyed this completely unedited, off the cuff smut, cowpokes.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Confirmation

Read on Ao3

Warnings: hallucinations

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 1515

"There's a man sitting in the corner of the room."

The words manage to still Arthur in a matter of seconds, gaze flicking up to the look on Merlin's face before slowly looking around.

It's the quiet shake of vulnerability that keeps him from dismissing the idea out of hand or scoffing and making a joke. In all the times he's spoken to Merlin, both before and after his father died, Merlin's never sounded like this.

Tired? Yes, most assuredly, he's spoken with exhaustion laced through every word.

Upset? Very few things can replicate the sincere hurt Merlin once hurled at him.

Afraid? Despite all the jokes he makes about Merlin being a coward, he's only ever truly heard fear once or twice.

But no, Merlin has never sounded like this. Even the first time they'd huddled in his chambers after some battle or encounter with a magical creature that left them shaking, Merlin had been a bit sharper, a bit harsher, pointing out misleads and omission with a quiet rage until the real perpetrator had been caught. And he'd certainly appeared more vulnerable—you could only look so strong on your deathbed—but there had always been an unspoken dignity or confidence that made Merlin easy to see.

And perhaps it's the memory of that, the hard-won comradery and ease between them that quiets Arthur's voice.

"Where?"

Merlin glances up and nods to an empty corner. "I don't know how long he's been there. Since you came in at least. He keeps looking at you."

Arthur glances over. There really is nothing there. But if Merlin can see someone…

He begins to move, intent on going over to touch the blank walls, or stand in the empty corner, when a sudden grip on his sleeve makes him stop.

"Don't leave," Merlin mumbles, "please."

Arthur stops, lingering by the chair Merlin's huddled around, watching him tug the fabric of his sleeve, rubbing it back and forth over his fingers. After a moment, he leans down, lowering his voice as he would with a frightened child.

"There really is no one there, Merlin," he says as gently as he can muster, "I swear. It's just an empty corner."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes. I promise. We're the only people in this room."

"…thank you."

Arthur hums, letting Merlin continue to fuss with his sleeve. They stay there in the quiet of Arthur's chambers for a while, until Merlin's hand twitches violently and he jerks away, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing.

"Sorry."

"I didn't mind."

He even moves his arm a little so it presses against Merlin's shoulder. After a while, Merlin's head gingerly lowers, resting against it. Arthur shifts a little closer to make it easier and turns his hand so it rests against Merlin's arm.

They stay like that until a guard knocks on the door and says Arthur's needed elsewhere.

That's how it starts. Whispered or murmured words of something Merlin can see, promises made that there's nothing there. They don't come often, but they come frequently enough for Arthur to ask whether Gaius knows about it.

"I've seen how Gaius looks at me already," Merlin confesses in hushed tones, as if there's someone listening in, "I don't want him to look at me any differently."

Arthur doesn't ask again.

When Merlin starts to mumble the reassurances to himself, he thinks that might have been the end of it. But then instead of statements about seeing something, it's questions.

"Are the candles blowing out?"

"Can you hear music?"

"Was that your chair?"

Arthur answers each one he can, checking his chair, listening for music, or taking Merlin's arm to guide him past the candles. Each time, no matter how small, there is a quiet moment of vulnerability that never fails to give Arthur pause. It's a new type of trust for him, to be trusted to hold something that fragile in his hands and not break it.

There's a time when Merlin asks in front of a group of knights—not their knights, who would have understood and probably glared at Arthur even though he's the one who's being asked—and one of them scoffs, laughing in disbelief, as another one says that yes, of course there's a bloody man in the corner.

He takes a little too much satisfaction out of the way Merlin relaxes when he says gently yet firmly that no, you're alright, and the flash of fear that crosses everyone else's faces at the look he gives them.

Then come the tactile hallucination.

"Arthur?"

"Mm?" Arthur glances up from his desk to see Merlin staring at nothing, one arm clutched in the other. "Are you alright?"

"Can I ask a very stupid question?"

Arthur sits up, setting the quill aside. He's learned by now that 'very stupid question' is Merlin for 'I'm about to expose a vulnerability that I feel embarrassed, ashamed, and scared about sharing.' "What is it?"

"…can you check and see if there are any bite marks on my arms?"

He's still for a moment, processing the question, before he stands up and walks over, holding out his hands. Merlin places one shaking arm in his hold, eyes still fixed on nothing.

Slowly, carefully, he runs his hands over Merlin's arms. Over the soft, curly down on the tops to the thin delicate skin underneath where his veins are just visible. He checks the insides of his wrists, the crook of his elbow, every place he can think of. When he finishes with one and pronounces it clear, Merlin offers the other one and he repeats the process, patient and thorough.

"No bites," he says after he's finished with both, "no marks."

Merlin nods. "Thank you."

He hums and returns to his desk, but he can't help but glance up every once in a while just to check.

The tactile ones are rare indeed. He can count on one hand the number of times Merlin asks him for something like that—it's yet another new layer to the trust between them, one that starts to feel a bit more like protection. It's a terrifyingly powerful feeling, to be protecting someone not by the sword in his hand or the crown on his head. In certain moments, it feels far more important than that.

Then comes the day of the crash.

He walks into his chambers to see Merlin perched on a chair in an eerily similar way to how it was the very first time this happened. Merlin's eyes are wide and unseeing, tears on his cheeks, hands curled and folded like limp flower petals in his lap. He looks so small and young and scared and lost that Arthur's crossing to kneel before him without a second thought.

"What's wrong," he asks gently, "what's happening?"

"I don't know. I don't know where I am. I don't—I don't know anything anymore."

"You're in my chambers," he says, reaching out to cradle Merlin's hands in his, "on a chair. The curtains are drawn. The sun is setting outside. I'm in here with you. It's just me, only me. See? Can you hold onto me?"

Shaking fingers wrap around his and Arthur squeezes.

"That's it. You hold onto me. I'm real. You're real. We're both real. It's okay, Merlin, I'm here and so are you. It's okay. I promise you it's alright. We're okay."

"A-Arthur?"

"Yes, Merlin, it's me. Only me. You've got me, see? You're alright. You're doing very well." Another set of tears rolls down Merlin's cheeks and he reaches up to brush them away. "It's alright, Merlin. You're safe."

"I'm scared," Merlin whispers, and Arthur can feel his chest begin to ache at the very thought, "Arthur, I'm scared."

Frantically, Arthur looks about, trying to figure out what he can do to comfort Merlin, give him something to ground him, to make him believe him, make him feel safe, but when nothing comes to mind, he bites back a curse and settles on the floor.

"Come here," he encourages, opening his arms wide, "come let me hold you, I'll protect you."

Merlin looks at him with those big sad eyes and Arthur is going to take his sword and eviscerate whatever's made Merlin so fragile.

"Come here, sweetheart," he murmurs, nodding encouragingly when Merlin starts to move, "come here, yes, that's it, come and let me hold you, shh, it's alright, you can put your weight on me, there you go."

Merlin folds himself up against Arthur's chest, letting him wrap his arms fully around him, his head hiding in the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur rubs his back firmly, daring to nuzzle into Merlin's crop of black hair.

"Shh, sweetheart," he says gently, rocking them slightly back and forth, "shh, shh, it's okay. I'm right here. You've got me, see? You've got me."

A new sort of trust, a new sort of protection. And yet as he holds his Merlin there, on the floor of his chambers with the sun setting outside, he thinks that if this were his kingdom he would gladly defend it until his last breath.